Sarah Bloody Sarah
by Echo the Insane
Summary: Toby and her fiance murdered, Sarah Williams goes on a quest for revenge. With her is her old nemesis, Jareth, and a trio of monsters who steal evil adults away. Sarah will find the men who killed her loved ones and drench them in blood. Lite J/S 15 chaps
1. The Beginning of Blood

(WARNING: The story you are about to read is horror. It is graphic, it is ugly, and it is not for the weak hearted. People will die, people will suffer. Good people and bad people. If you want a good, lighthearted fic, go read "The Pineapple and the King" by Lixxle. Awesome fic. This one is about murder, revenge, and lots of gore. Yes there is JS, but its not the fluffy, romantic kind. You have been warned.)

Sarah Williams was once a compassionate, caring young woman, full of gentle thoughts and concern for those around her. She was once clean, once lovely, once the picture of teenage bliss. She had run a great Labyrinth, defeated a King, and saved the younger brother she foolishly wished away. She had been a champion, a friend, and innocent.

Now she stood in complete silence, her face void of emotion, her skin streaked with blood. In one hand she held an ax, covered in gore, in the other, the severed head of a man. Her white tank top was stained red, her jeans black and covered in little bits of humanity. The room she stood in was washed with blood, a cooling body in pieces at her feet. She stuffed the human head in a trash bag, dropped her ax beside her, and went about collecting the other bits of Travis and stuff them in several other nearby bags.

The Goblin King was lounging on the only clean part of the faraway wall. He was immaculate; not a drop of blood on him, nor hair out of place. He watched her with a mildly amused expression, smirking as she viciously kicked what was left of Travis' leg out of her way.

Once Upon a Time, Sarah had been a good girl. Once Upon a Time, Sarah had been an innocent.

Now she was Bloody Sarah, steeped in blood, checking the last name off her death list.

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter One: The Beginning of Blood

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

It was her last year of college and Sarah Williams couldn't have been happier. Her degree was well within her grasp, her life was pretty well on track (a great job, an even better fiance, a happy family to call on, magical friends to visit with), and she and Jack had just rented the most amazing house ever. It was small, one bedroom home, with a nice sized kitchen, a small but warm dining room/living room combo, and a great backyard; perfect for Jack to grill in and her to set up a nice patio set. Her family was proud of her, her professors adored her, and Jack loved her with all his heart.

It was summer; the best time of the year. Sarah was in shorts every day, enjoying the sun on her shoulders, taking in every moment of blissful warmth she could grasp. Her little brother Toby was staying with them for the week, sleeping on her couch and playing Jack's PlayStation til it ran hot. Toby was seven going on thirty, with bright blue eyes, dimples, and curly blond hair. He was, in Sarah's opinion, the cutest little brother ever. He was very serious when he wanted to be, and beyond goofy the rest of the time. He adored Jack, and he followed his soon-to-be big brother everywhere he went.

So when Jack told Sarah was going to take Toby fishing in their favorite spot on the river, she thought nothing of it and sent them off with a smile and kiss to both of them. That was just before noon. It was now seven at night, and she hadn't heard from Jack or Toby. Jack wasn't the sort to stay out without calling; especially not with precious cargo like Toby around. Sarah was worried, wondering what to do. She finally settled on going to look for Jack's truck, and headed out the door with her heart pounding in her throat and her palms sweating. The river was just ten minutes away, but the minutes felt like hours. She was feeling more and more frightened as she got closer, taking the secluded dirt road that lead off the main road and down to the shore a bit harder than usual. She was hardly able to swallow as she pulled up behind Jack's truck.

The gear was in the back, along with the basket full of sandwiches she had packed for them. They were untouched, sitting in the fading light, spoiling. Her heart filled with dread. It was suddenly harder to breathe, her head was dizzy. She leaned on the truck, staring at Toby's fishing pole.

She started to call out to them, but her voice died in her throat. In the nearby brush, just barely sticking out under a tree limb, was a little blue shoe; just like the one Toby had been wearing earlier that day. Sarah stumbled towards it, the world moving passed her in slow motion. It was discarded; just laying there on its side. She came up on it, staring at it, then around it. A few feet away, the other shoe lay in a similar state. She went to it, looked behind the nearby old oak tree, and suddenly she was on her knees, screaming with all her might.

The world was drenched in red. The tree was splattered with it, the leaves covered in it. Toby was there beneath the tree, naked, red with blood, laying on his stomach. His back destroyed; stabbed and chopped so much she couldn't bare to look at it, his face turned towards her. She looked into his unseeing, beautiful blue eyes and screamed some more. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, but the horror of it all got worse still. Not a stone's throw away, Jack lay in pieces; carved up into sections, his battered head sitting on the curved of his spine, his arms and legs arranged around him like a circle.

Sarah did not process any of this. All she saw was death and her loved ones in blood. She screamed and screamed until the world went dark. She was still screaming as the night fell, still screaming when the police at last drove up. A trucker up on the nearby road had pulled over to check his oil and heard her screams and called the police on his CB radio. The trucker had been by her side, trying to move her away from the gore, trying to calm her for more than fifteen minutes, but she was unaware of this. All she saw was Toby and Jack and all mess that had been them that morning.

A fine, summer day in her twenty-first year of life, Sarah Williams went mad.


	2. I Wish

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Two: I Wish...

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Sarah sat on the chair across from her parents. They were on the couch, a box of Kleenex in Karen's lap, one clutched tightly in her fingers. In the months since Toby's death, her family's home had become silent. Sarah stared at the ever-present box of Kleenex, barely seeing it, barely registering it. Robert's arm was around Karen, holding her tightly against him. Her father looked strained; gray. None of them had slept much in ages.

It wasn't getting easier with time. Truth be told, it seemed to be getting worse. Everywhere they went, they were reminded of their lose. The small town people always looked at them oddly, whispered to each other "That's the family of the murdered child." The funeral had been awful. The curious looks masked as sympathy, the soft voices whispering false condolences. Sarah hated them all, but most of all, she hated herself.

Why hadn't she gone to look for them sooner? Why had she let them go at all? Had it hurt much? Had they suffered? Had her brother cried when the man tore into his back with the knife? Everyday, every minute, every second, she could think of nothing else. She still remembered the dull, lifeless eyes of Jack's head staring through her. The horror of it all was more than she could bare.

"Sarah? Honey?" Karen's broke, too high voice called to her from outside the memories. Sarah looked up from the box of Kleenex, finding Karen's fragile fingers holding a tissue out to her. Sarah took it, stared it at, then realized it was there to dry her wet cheeks. She had been crying without knowing it; something they were all prone to doing. She thanked Karen quietly, and wiped her face.

They didn't blame her, for some reason. They weren't angry with her for letting Toby and Jack go. They were worried about her, since she found them. Since she'd moved back in with them, her parents had been nothing but supportive. The grief was too much for them all to bare; especially Karen. Toby was her miracle baby; the doctors had told her when she was a teenager she would never have children. Sarah still remembered the way she had glowed when she announced she was pregnant.

She looked at Karen, her red hair flat against her scalp, her eyes always puffy. Her skin was sallow and clammy, always sweating, always her clothes sticking to her. She looked small and frail and so lost.

Sarah's father wasn't much better. Robert looked like a wild man, caught in headlights. He wrung his hands constantly, he was ill at least once daily. He couldn't keep food or drink down for very long, he couldn't focus on what others were saying or doing. He was there and yet not there, lost in his grief. Sarah herself looked horrible, and felt worse. She couldn't sleep, and when she did, she had nightmares that sent into her screaming, paranoid fits where even when she was awakened, the bloody faces of her family swam before her.

Jack's family had been so understanding. They had wept with her, had wept for her, had held her and kissed her cheeks, and told her they loved her. They were brokenhearted for the loss of their son, but also for the loss of her brother. They were perfect, and they were forever tormented by the death of their only boy.

Everything was wrong now. The lovely house she and Jack had worked so hard for was a horror now. She couldn't go inside it without seeing him everywhere. The landlord had released her from the lease without complaint. She had packed her few belongs, Jack's sister had packed his, and the house was out of her life within a few days of the...tragedy. She had quit her job, and while she went to school; she felt she was learning nothing. She had nothing to look forward to, nothing to take her from this overwhelming sense of pain and terror.

The police had found nothing at the scene except a few beer and liquor bottles, and a set of tire tracks belonging to a van or SUV. There were no witnesses, no evidence, and no making sense of why.

It was four months later, and it still was too much to believe. The police had come over the day before the funeral, had told them just how Toby died and how he had suffered. Her sweet, innocent little brother... Her face was wet again, tears streaming down her face as she thought over and over of the pain he must have felt; the fear, the look of glee on his murderer's face. Sarah looked down at her hands, wishing with all her might that she could find the man that had taken her brother's innocence, then his life.

_I wish I could make him suffer._

She thought of Toby, screaming underneath an unknown man's body, being violated, the knife plunging into his back as the man raped him. The tears overwhelmed her, and she began to sob. Karen's arms were around her, holding her to her chest, whispering into her ear, crying along with her.

_I wish I could make him hurt. I wish I knew who he was!_

Somewhere, far beyond her fear, far beyond her anger, Sarah heard a bell chime. It was the ringing of a clock; a distant, familiar sound that for some reason, brought her a moment of peace. Her sobs slowed, but did not stop.

She heard the chime again. Karen was holding her, kissing her hair. Robert was bent over his knees, throwing up into the trash can that had been at the end of the couch moments before.

Third chime. The world was growing cooler. Karen wasn't holding her anymore. She was standing beside Sarah, her thin hand on her shoulder, rubbing it.

Fourth chime. Robert was still retching into the can. Karen was wiping Sarah's cheek with a Kleenex

Fifth chime. Sarah could see something dart past the nearby door way. She turned her head slowly towards it.

Sixth chime. Something scurried behind Karen's leg, diving behind the couch.

Seventh chime. Robert was carrying the trash can to the bathroom. Karen was looking at her in concern, speaking to her. Her voice sounded very far away, muffled; like she was underwater.

Eighth chime. Something ran a finger down over her ankle from under the chair. She looked down at her shoes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Ninth chime. She looked up in time to see an owl fly passed the window behind the couch. Karen was staring at her with an expression of such worry. She was still talking, but Sarah couldn't hear a word of what she was saying.

Tenth chime. The room was getting dimmer. It had taken an almost dreamlike quality to it. There seemed to be a mist around the edges of the room, softening it to her sight.

Eleventh chime. Karen was fading before her. The air around her was growing darker and darker. The room was getting smaller, fading into the dimness.

Twelfth chime. The room was gone. Sarah was sitting in the chair still, in a void of darkness. Things were moving in the dark, but she wasn't scared. This was familiar, but strange. She knew this place. A golden clock was hanging in midair, it's hand about to strike the last number. She somehow knew what would happen when it touched thirteen.

Thirteenth chime. He was standing before her, his cloak billowing towards her, glitter and fairy dust floating from him and onto her. An unnatural wind ruffled his hair, touched her cheek. She stared up at the Goblin King without feeling. He stared back at her with an unreadable expression on his lovely, unchanging face.

"So you want to know who killed your brother and betrothed, Sarah?" Jareth asked, his voice unchanged and just as she remembered.

"Yes," she said, her voice deeper than usual, scratchy with emotion.

"Why?" he asked, slowly coming closer to her.

She met his eyes and said, unflinchingly; "I want revenge."

The Goblin King stopped and smiled, holding his gloved hand out to her.

"Then you shall have it."

She did not hesitate. She took his hand, and the darkness of the room melted into light.

_Revenge._


	3. The Slaughter Companions

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Three: The Slaughter Companions

WARNING: The Chapter and most following chapters will be extremely GRAPHIC in detail. People will be cut up, tortured, and thusly maimed. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

The Goblin City, in the very center of the Labyrinth, was not quite as she remembered it. The towers were taller, more sinister. The buildings were darker, more decrepit. Chickens still ran free under her feet, but the streets seemed to hold a foreboding breath, waiting, waiting. She stood next to the Goblin King, beside the trickling water fountain at the very heart of the City. She looked left, then right, but no goblins were any where she could see. It was just her, the Goblin King, and lots of loose chickens.

"Sarah," he said, drawing her attention to him. He was not as tall as he had been when she had run the Labyrinth, or perhaps she had just grown a bit more. He was still beautiful, still intimidating, but not her enemy. For the moment, at least. He was looking at her in that unreadable way, his mismatched eyes glowing in the eternal sunset. "I am the King of Goblins. Do you know what that means?"

She blinked, looking passed him to the castle. It was grimmer than before; the stones almost black instead of the light brown of her memories. Perhaps the Labyrinth had grown up, too. She stared at the sharp, craggy spires, at the far away fires glinting on the parameter of the castle. "You rule the Labyrinth, you rule over the Goblins."

"Yes," he said, "but more than that. The Goblins you saw when you came here before were the ones sent to fetch children. There are other Goblins, the kind that fetch adults," he continued, catching her eye again. "The kind you will need to help you get revenge."

She looked around again, wondering where these Goblins were. She wasn't sure if she should be afraid, or nervous, or feeling anything at all. She was numb inside, but felt something stirring inside her dead heart. She wondered if the Goblins would be hideous, or marvelous.

"Do not worry about your parents," he said suddenly. For a moment she was confused why he should bring them up now, until she realized she had...vanished, vaporized, whatever-ed right in front of them. Her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline, wondering what explanation he would give. "I made them forget about your rather dramatic exit and think you went out of town with a college friend to get away from everything. They won't be expecting you for some time. They won't worry about you."

It was almost nice of him to do that. She thought of Robert and Karen and how they had already suffered so. Least thing on their mind should be where Sarah was and what she was doing. She felt disappointed in herself for not thinking of them before the Goblin King brought them up.

"I can show you the men who killed your Jack and Toby," he said, nodding slightly when she looked back to him and away from her thoughts. "Yes, men. Here. Look if you can bare it." He lifted a hand, a crystal balancing on the tip of his finger. He held it out to her, letting it roll off his finger and into her waiting hands. She stared down into it, her throat constricting and stomach churning. She began watching it from afar, watching the scene inside the crystal.

Toby was in the passenger seat, laughing at something Jack said. They were just arriving at the fishing spot, Jack putting the truck in park and killing the engine. Toby unbuckled his seat belt, the sun warm on his face. He was smiling, still laughing as he opened the door. His little feet never touched the ground, though, because a man came from the nearby brush and snatched him right up.

The man was not very tall, average height. His hair was mousy brown, his eyes matching. He wore a gray shirt and dirty jeans, with snake skin cowboy boots. His smile was crooked, his teeth yellow from too many years of cigarettes and coffee. Sarah could smell the beer on his breath as he spoke, though she couldn't hear the words. She was there then, inside this memory of horror, standing amongst the scene, watching it unfold. She could not move, could not cry out. She knew it was a memory, but it didn't matter. Here, Toby was alive, though it wouldn't last. Soon she would see him in blood and pain and still.

Jack was out of the truck, rushing at the man. He was yelling, raising his fists as he charged. Another man appeared behind him, a tire iron in his hand. He hit Jack on the back, knocking him the ground.

"Kill him," the man in gray said, his voice a shock amongst the silence. He had an accent; it was an odd accent. Almost Southern, but not quite. It drawled the words; prolonged them. His voice was gravel and hate and cold. Sarah looked to him, watching him carry the squirming Toby towards the tree. Toby's shoe; the thing that had lead her to the discovery; fell and rolled beneath the brush. As he struggled, the other flew off, landed nearby.

The man was laughing, though it had gone silent again. Jack was struggling, still trying to get up and to Toby. There were three men now, all with weapons of some sort. They beat him in the ribs, the stomach, the back. Jack was coughing up blood, his eyes red from the battering he took to his head. The blood vessels in them popped and bled, and for a heartbeat, he seemed to look at her. His hand rose towards her, and a large knife; a machete perhaps, came down, chopping his arm off from the elbow down.

He was screaming. She couldn't move, couldn't help. He was screaming, until the tire iron came down one last time on his head. She looked to the man with the iron. He was tan skinned, with white, shining teeth as he grinned. His head was shaved clean, a tattoo of a dragon on the back of his skull. He had tattoos all up and down his arms; dragons of some sort. Sarah watched him beat Jack to death, her heart screaming and aching and wanting to do something; anything.

The man with the machete was pale; almost albino. He was thick built, with white blond hair, too many muscles on his arms and shoulders, short legs that ended in combat boots. He looked like a military want-to-be, with his buzz cut and his anchor tattoo on his shoulder. He was shorter than the others; looked shorter than her even, but bulky. He had a gold tooth right in front that glinted in the sunlight. He hacked off Jack's leg and threw it to the side, grabbing the severed arm and tossing it with it. Blood squirted him in the face and he laughed.

The third man was tall and wiry. He was red headed, with freckles and a wide nose. He wore a leather jacket, a black shirt beneath it, and black jeans. His eyes were black, and his smile cruel. He was much taller than the others; well over six feet. He kicked Jack's torso, laughing as he brought a baseball bat down on him.

Sarah turned from them, having memorized their faces. Her feet were moving towards where she knew Toby was, though it was no choice of hers. Tears were streaming down her face, but she could not move to clear them. There was a scream in her throat but she couldn't open her mouth to release. She felt her stomach churning, wanted to be sick, but could not. Her eyes were clear though, somehow, though she wished they were not. Her whole body shook out of control as she stumbled like a zombie to where her brother was being murdered.

Toby was on the ground, his face pushed into the leaves, his stomach pressed over a large tree root. He was crying, the little bit of his face she could see was scrunched in pain. The man above him was the one she hated the most. He was raping her brother, the meat knife held between his little shoulder blades. The man was grimacing and laughing and smiling and making faces of horrible pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut as he raised the knife, praying with her might to get out of the crystal, get away from the smell and the memory and the horror of it all.

She opened her eyes and stumbled, the Goblin King's hands steadying her. She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes wide and full of terror, before she fell beside the fountain and was sick. She felt his hands pulling back her hair; an odd gesture of kindness. He rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders, silent as he tried to comfort her.

A shadow fell in front of her. Sarah lifted her head, choking on the last bit of vomit in her mouth. She swallowed it convulsively, jerking back against the Goblin King.

The creature before her had no eyes. It's skin was paper thin and a cold, dead gray. It was long and all muscle and bone; too thin to be alive. It was hunched on all fours, though in a way, it almost looked human in shape. Its head was a bit too large for its body, and bald. It had no ears; just two holes where they should have been. It had a mouth, though; a great, gaping thing full of sharp, black teeth that pointed in several directions. Its breath smelt like weeks old dead animals. She could see every rib in the thing, the tendons in its arms and legs. Its spine was large, with the bones protruding in a most disturbing way. It was sniffling her vomit with its flat nose, and proceeded to eat it slowly, licking it from the ground with its long, black tongue.

"That is one of the Adult Fetchers. Children that have seen it call it the Boogeyman," the Goblin King said quietly in her ear. She was leaning back against him, terrified and yet oddly curious. The creature finished eating her vomit, lifted its head towards her in a disjointed, almost broken fashion. It started moving towards her at a remarkable pace; like a spider scurrying across a table top. She groaned deep in her throat, shaking all over in terror. The creature stopped just short of her, its face far too close to her, its teeth glinting as it...smiled at her.

It lifted its long, talon like finger and touched her cheek, running the pad of its finger against her skin. "Pretty," it crooned, grinning again. It sat down in front of her, its grin firmly in place.

Sarah looked reluctantly over her shoulder at the Goblin King, who inclined his head towards the creature. Sarah looked back at the Boogeyman, licked her lips, and touched its papery face. Its skin was dry, and flaked against her palm, but it seemed to love the attention. It rubbed her hand rather like a cat, and even made an odd, almost purr/growl sound as it sniffed her fingers.

There was a thump, following by a slithering off to her side. Sarah startled, jerking her hand from the Boogeyman, who scowled and looked along with her towards the new creature. A long, black coil had fallen from atop one of the nearby stone fences. It raised its head, its red eyes blinking towards her. It was a snake; though longer and thicker than any snake she had ever seen. It raised its head, stuck its tongue out to taste the air, and began to uncoil.

Sarah swallowed reflexively, staring in wonder and complete fear as a seat of arms became visible on the snake. It began to slither closer to her, its thin, shining black arms pulled close to its self. Each finger was dripping a green, vile smile substance Sarah was pretty sure was venom. The creature shook its self a bit as it grew closer, revealing a small set of red wings on its back.

"A basilisk," Jareth said into her ear.

"Don't you t-turn to stone if you look in its eyes?" she asked, her voice strong despite the small stutter.

"Only if it wished to turn you into stone, yes," Jareth replied, rubbing her arms. She nodded a bit, looked back at the creature.

"My Lady," it hissed, somehow reminding her of a reptile version of Sir Didymus. It bowed most dramatically, and coiled next to the Boogeyman "I ssshould like to join you in your...quessst."

"Thank you," she said softly, staring at the interesting creature. The Boogeyman sniffed the Basilisk, then returned to..."looking" at Sarah.

Then came a dragging sound, somewhere behind Jareth. He did not look over his shoulder, but continued to rub her arms. "A dwarf," he said simply, turning his head a bit to the left as the next creature came round.

It was indeed, a dwarf. It was small, with a broad body, a long, dirty red beard, and a very large ax dragging along behind it. Its face was so dirty she could barely see its, though when it smiled, its teeth were pointed and gold. Its eyes were jewel-bright green, and twinkled with mischief. He wore armor of what looked like pure gold, and had a variety of short swords, knives, and picks on his belt.

"Eldore, m'Lady," he groused, his voice very deep for a creature that would not reach her waist. "A pleasure, 'm sure."

"Likewise," she replied.

"These will be your companions," Jareth said, still sitting behind her, rubbing her arms. "I shall be at your disposal, should you need me."

"My companions?" she repeated, looking over her shoulder at him. His face was very close, his breath warm and sweet on her cheek.

His lips brushed her skin when he spoke. "There is a human expression; "Take's one to know one." In this case, it will take a monster to kill a monster." He smiled a bit, his hands still on her arms, holding her close. "I would not send you to kill men like that without a little...help."

"Oh," she said after a moment, looking back at the creatures before her. "Will you help me? Is that all right?" she asked them.

Boogey's grin grew, though she hadn't thought that possible. It stretched and stretched to impossible lengths. "Help kill. Boogey likes."

"I would be honored," the Basilisk said, inclining its head.

"I could do with a spot o' mayhem," said Eldore, smirking at her, his lip pulling up at the side to show his shining gold teeth.

Sarah looked at her slaughter companions, all of her fear and apprehension fading away.

"There is a condition, sweet Sarah," the Goblin King said, releasing her. She did not move away and neither did he. "You can only use one of the Fetchers at a time. One monster to kill a monster, do you see? You will go with each one, use him, and send him home. There are three monsters here, and four monsters you must face. You will have to kill one on your own."

She thought of yellow teeth, the drawling voice, the brown hair and eyes, the look of disgusting pleasure on his face. "That's fine," she said, looking over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. "I know which one I want to kill."

"But can you Sarah?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to him. She was pressed to his chest, could feel the heat of him. "Can you kill another human being?"

She remembered Toby, bloody and violated, dead and left for animals to find. She remembered Jack in pieces, his loving face bloated and discolored. "Yes."

The Goblin King smiled, released her again. He rose, held his hand for her to take, and helped her to her feet. "Good. Once you have finished with my Fetchers, you may call on me to help with your killing." He held up a finger in warning, his face expressionless. "I will not kill him for you. I will merely help you should he try to run or injure you. Understand?"

"Yes," she said, biting her lower lip.

"If you are ready then, I shall send you and one of the Fetchers on your way. I will send you where these men are located." He came closer to her again, close enough to touch. "Call me name when you need me, Sarah. Only once, though. I can only come to you once."

"Right," she breathed, looking up at him.

"Jareth, Sarah," he said.

"I know," she said replied.

"Pity," he said. "You've never said it aloud."

She said nothing, but looked away from him.

"Time to go Sarah."

The Basilisk slid gracefully to her side, giving her a chivalrous bow before he joined her. She looked at the Goblin King – Jareth – once more, and in a blink, the Goblin City faded to black.


	4. Iron on Stone

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Four: Iron on Stone

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Sarah blinked and found herself and the Basilisk outside an old farmhouse surrounded by cornfields. The sky was darkening as twilight set in. She had no idea how long she had been Underground. She had an odd sense of jet lag, and really couldn't remember if it had been morning or night when she had been swept away from her parents home. She looked up at the sky, blinked into the fading light. The Basilisk was sitting beside her, looking curiously around.

The Basilisk slithered over to what used to be a flower bed, and plucked a wild daisy from the lot. He twirled the little plant in the fading light, then came back to her side. He held it out to her with his poison fingers, watching her face. "It isss not a rossse, asss a beauty of your caliber dessserves," he said, smiling a bit, revealing his fangs, "but it will do, for now."

She took the yellow blossom, the color almost the same as Toby's hair, careful not to touch his fingernails. She tucked it behind her ear, smiled a bit at the Basilisk, who was reminding her more and more of her fox knight friend. "Thank you."

He bowed once again, looking satisfied.

Sarah looked back at the house. Inside was one of her "monsters".

"Eli," the Basilisk said, looking towards the house with undisguised dislike. "The one inssside isss Eli. The one who daresss to wear the mighty dragon; my ancestor; on his ssskin." 

His face flashed through her mind, his white teeth shining on tan skin, his arms rippling with their many dragon tattoos as he brought the tire iron down on Jack's skull. "That his name?" Sarah asked coldly, her hands clenching at her side as she looked back to the house.

"Indeed," the Basilisk said, his voice a hissing growl. "He isss inssside, watching that moronic televisssion box, without a care in the world."

Sarah nodded to herself, looked around. There was an old truck off to the side, a toolbox beside it. Eli had been working on it, she supposed. She walked over to it, seeing a tire iron resting atop the toolbox. She lifted it, staring at the teeth of it. These teeth had gone into Jack's neck, right below his skull, into his ribs as well. She held it tight in her hands, looked from it to the house again.

"Let's go...do you have a name?" she paused on her way to the house, looking towards the Basilisk.

He came to her side again, and shook his head. "Basssilisssk only exissst one at a time, my Lady. Sssince there isss only one of usss, we are sssimply, the Basssilisssk," he explained, shrugging his smooth shoulders.

Sarah frowned a bit, her brow puckering as she looked at him. "Isn't it odd, though, not having a proper name?"

He blinked at her, tilted his head. "I have not really thought about it, my Lady."

Sarah sighed, looked back towards the house. "I think you deserve your own name. How about...Arach? It means dragon in Gaelic."

"You ssspeak Gaelic, my Lady?" he asked, sounding impressed and pleased.

Sarah give him a self-depreciating smile. "Naw. It was in a fantasy book I read as a child."

The Basilisk tilted his head, thought it over, and smiled. "No one hasss ever thought enough of me to try and name me, my Lady. Asss sssuch, I am honored to accept thisss gloriousss name. I am Arach, from here on in." He bowed deeply. "Thank you, my Lady."

Sarah smiled a bit at him, the crow bar heavy in her hand. She stepped up onto the old, wooden porch, listened to it creak beneath her feet. Arach slithered up beside her, oddly silent as he went, causing not a stir of the leaves scattering the porch or any of the boards to shift at all. He opened the screen door, and touched the old brass doorknob. Sarah heard a distinct "snick" sound, like a lock being unlatched on the inside. A second later, Arach opened the door and entered, hunching low as he looked left and right.

Sarah entered the farmhouse, looking around the old building. The wallpaper was dusty and peeling, the floral print fading. The side table by the stairs had a stack of mail on it, and when she flipped through it, it was all bills; one for back due child support. So this monster had a child; one it seemed he cared nothing for. The child would be better off without this creature around anyway. She dropped the mail back onto the table, listening to the sounds of the house. She could hear the TV in a nearby room, heard Eli laughing at whatever it was. He had no idea someone was in his house.

"I have a plan, my Lady," Arach said, raising to meet her height. He whispered the plan in her ear and she smiled a bit. It was a good idea; a painful one. She nodded, smiled at Arach as he slithered back outside. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but in anticipation; not fear.

She looked at the antique lamp on the side table. She smiled to herself, wielded the tire iron like a baseball bat, and smashed the lamp to pieces. She shattered the mirror across the hall from it too, grinned her best as Eli came running out of the living room. He screamed at her, his chest covered in what looked like the remnants of spaghetti. Sarah laughed a high, cruel laugh and ran out the still open door and into the waiting cornfield, Eli on her heels.

She ran left, then right in random patterns, Eli running close behind her. He was fast, but Sarah was faster. For a moment, it was like running the Labyrinth all over again. She felt free, dashing between the stalks, feeling their leaves brush her skin and occasionally an ear would hit her but she didn't care. The light was failing, but she could see ahead of her. She was sure Eli could still see her, so she picked up the pace. She laughed as she lost him, heard Eli swear several feet behind her, and found herself a good place to hide.

Eli stumbled right in front of her, looking around, squinting in the little light that was left. "Where are you girl? What the Hell are you playing at?" he yelled. He had a deep, growling voice, just as she expected. She could see the dragon tattoo on the back of his skull, could see the head of another dragon peaking out from his collar. He must be covered in them, she thought.

He was breathing hard, scowling in the night as darkness fell. There was just enough light left to get him home. It seemed he might be ready to call it quits, and took a step towards the house.

That's when Arach rose from the stalks in front of him. Arach was taller than Eli; bigger than he had been when he was with Sarah. Now he was enormous; the height of a bus, the width of an oak tree. He was hissing between his teeth; Sarah was fairly sure he was laughing. His fingers were dripping venom, and each stalk of corn the venom touched burnt away and died. He extended his wings, and in that moment, he was a dragon.

Eli stumbled back, almost landing on Sarah. She swung the tire iron out at his legs, knocking him down. He fell with a scream, clutching his probably broken right leg. He stared up at Arach in horror, trying to scoot away from him. Sarah climbed to her feet, ran to her companion's side. Eli looked at her, his eyes wide and terrified.

Arach slithered forward, crushing corn stalks as he went. He was moving slowly, baring his fangs, his red eyes glowing. Eli tried to move away, scrambling backwards frantically. Sarah watched with fascination as Arach struck at him, grabbed him by the feet and legs, and lifted him high in the air.

Eli was screaming, thrashing, his lower body gone inside Arach's mouth. Venom was running down his body, sizzling on his skin, eating his flesh away. Eli was crying, begging for God to help him, squealing in pain as Arach's teeth bore down tighter on him.

Arach released him, letting him fall back into the corn. Most of the skin and muscle on his legs had been eaten away by the poison. Sarah could see the bones in his shins and feet. His shoes and pants were totally gone, leaving bits of fabric stuck to his wounds. He was yelling in pain, looking down at his mangled lower half, almost touching his injuries but then not, afraid of the poison.

"HELP ME!" he yelled to Sarah, looking at her in agony.

"Help you?" she repeated, tilting her head as she drew nearer. "I'm here to watch you die, Eli," she said, cringing as she got closer. The smell coming from his legs was awful; like acid eating away meat. She stepped back, waving a hand in front of her nose to clear the air. "You're disgusting."

"PLEASE!" he yelled, sobbing, jerking his body in pain. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

Sarah scowled down at him. "Why? You killed people I love, Eli." His eyes widened and he shook his head.

"N-No!" he sobbed, "I didn't kill...anybody!"

She tilted her head to the side, stared down at him in disbelief. "You beat my fiance to death with this," she held up the tire iron, watched him pale, "while you're friend raped and murdered my seven year old brother" she hissed at him.

"I'M SORRY!" he howled, gripping his legs above the wounds. "It was a mistake! It was all...T-Travis' idea. We were drunk!" he said feebly, the fight draining from him as he rocked back and forth in agony.

Sarah did not reply to his mutterings. She turned to Arach. "Finish him off. I don't want to look at him anymore."

"My pleasssure," Arach said, his voice full of satisfaction. "Do not look, my Lady."

She looked away, saw a red flash in the periphery of her vision, and turned back to Eli when Arach said she could.

He was still sitting there, his arms raised towards Arach as though to ward him off, his mouth agape in pain and terror. His eyes were wide, his legs in tatters, and he was made entirely of stone. Sarah stared at him a moment, memorizing the look of fear on his face, lifted the tire iron, and shattered Eli into as many pieces as she could.

She remembered Jack, screaming and trying to crawl away, the iron coming down on him over and over. She was screaming, her arms shaking with pain as she broke each and every piece until there was nothing left but remnants and dust.

Arach was at her side, returned to his normal size, patiently waiting as she took her anger out on the cold stone. She dropped the iron at last, leaned on Arach's side, and did not fear when he put his arm around her. She knew he wouldn't let the venom touch her; she trusted him.

"We are done, my Lady," he said at length, rubbing her arm soothingly. "Thisss creature will harm no one else. You have taken your firssst step to avenge your loved onesss."

"Thank you Arach," she said breathlessly, licking her suddenly dry lips. She was covered in dust, grime, and bits of corn stalk. She was sweaty, tired, and ready to sleep. It was hard to stand up, actually. She leaned heavier on his Basilisk friend, and took deep, steadying breaths.

"You are my firssst friend, my Lady," he said after a moment. "Asss sssuch, I wisssh to give you a gift."

She looked at him, weary but interested none the less. Arach looked in her eyes, his own glowing faintly in the night. Those eyes had turned Eli to stone, but she was not afraid. He smiled, as if seeing this in her. Her mouth started to tingle, her gums ached for a moment. She winced a bit, using her tongue to feel her canines. They were just slightly longer, and pointier. Her gums felt a bit swollen above them. She touched the swollen places with her tongue and felt...liquid beneath them. She looked at Arach in confusion and found him grinning at her.

"You now have some of my Basssilisssk venom, my Lady," he said proudly, squeezing her arm affectionately. "You will now how to ussse it ssshould the need arissse. Do not worry; if you bite yourself or sssomeone else on accident, you will not envenomate them. It isss only when you wisssh to poissson someone that you can."

Her eyes widened and she poked the pockets of venom in her gums again. "Oh, thank you Arach," she said with feeling, humbled by the gift. It was a bit morbid, a bit frightening, but it was a part of her friend.

"Let usss return to the Labyrinth, my Lady," he said, smiling at her. He winked, and the cornfield was empty, leaving only the small bits of Eli and a blood stained crowbar amongst the stalks.


	5. Blood Dreams

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Five: Blood Dreams

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

The Labyrinth was brighter now; the Labyrinth of her youth. The Goblins ran mad about everywhere, chasing chickens and each other. The sky was a little lighter; a pleasant orange that comes just before sundown. The fountain at the heart of the Goblin City tinkled merrily, with the Goblin King waiting for her beside it.

Arach had deposited her in what she had begun to think of as "the Light Labyrinth" and probably returned to "the Dark Labyrinth" as soon as their mission was complete. She was covered from head to foot in dirt and dust, and her tongue kept sneaking up to press experimentally on the little pockets of venom in her gums.

Jareth was quiet, merely looking at her, waiting. He was dressed rather simply; a white shirt a bit more modern than his usual poet look; with a pair of black pants and black boots. Sarah felt suddenly very tired, her body aching from the chase through the cornfield, her arms heavy and almost numb from the exertion of bringing the iron down over and over again. She looked pleadingly to him, took a slow step towards him.

Jareth met her halfway, putting his arm about her. She blinked, and the Goblin City was gone. They were inside the castle; in his throne room that was curiously abandoned. She looked up at him, and he brushed some dust from her cheek. "Come," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Let's get you to a shower, hmn?"

"You have showers here?" she asked, her surprise momentarily erasing the dirty taste of Eli's demise from her mouth.

He smiled a little, nodding towards a nearby door. "I created one especially for you. It's attached to your rooms."

"Oh. Thanks," she said, feeling touched and a little awkward A bath would have been nice, but a shower was more what she need to wash away the reality of what she had done.

"How do you feel, pet?" he asked as they walked arm-in-arm down the hall. It was silent; no goblins or chickens here. It was almost peaceful; just the two of them.

"Tired. Sore," she replied, knowing he was asking after her mental condition more than that of her body.

"Indeed," he said, and left it at that. They went down a set of stairs, made a right, and went up another. They came to a long hall, where there were only two doors facing each other. One was painted a deep, royal red; almost black it was so dark and glossy. The other was blue; bright like the deep of the sea seen from a boat. "Mine is the red, yours the blue," he clarified, motioning to both. "No one will bother you here, Sarah. Go inside, clean up, and rest. Tomorrow we will figure out what to do about Aboveground."

"What to do?" she asked, very tired once again.

"You can't stay down here indefinitely, pet," he reminded her, searching her face. "You will have to go back to your family before we can exact our next bit of revenge."

"Oh," she replied dumbly, leaning against the door frame.

"Later," he said quietly, reaching around her to open her door. "Go inside. This is your sanctuary."

She gave him a long, lingering look, wondering hazily again what it was he wanted. She stumbled into her room, the door lazily closing behind her. She stood a moment, drinking in this sight of her "sanctuary".

It was a large room. Not too large, just large enough to be airy. There were green and growing plants everywhere, with sweet smelling flowers that seemed to wash away all the smell of fear and dust she'd been trying to ignore. The room looked wild; like a barely tamed jungle. Orange flowers bigger than a plate bloomed randomly between couches the same blue as her door. The coffee table was made of stone, with little yellow flowers poking out of the cracks. The carpet was a soft looking moss, and when she toed off her tennis shoes and pulled off her socks, she discovered just how soft it was. Bright blue flowering vines ran out a large, dark wood fourposter in the corner, with a vanity made of the same wood, decorated by a vine of white roses. A vanity sat in the furthest corner, covered in a brown moss with small pink blossoms creeping up it.

There was only one other door beside the entrance. Sarah shuffled over to it, enjoying the cool, damp feel of the moss beneath her toes. She looked inside, her eyes widening.

Jareth's idea of a shower was much different than what she imagined. The bathroom was just as wild as the living quarters. A waterfall free flowed from the ceiling, down into a pool of ankle deep water. The same sort of bright flora grew everywhere in here. She walked around the waterfall, watched the water splash down into the pool. There was a pond nearby, which she quickly realized was a bath. There were golden handles sticking out of the stone face, and sweet smelling oils and rubs on the side of the pond. She sampled each one, and picked a lilac scent that made her aching shoulders relax with one whiff.

The "shower" was warm; just hot enough to ease the pain she felt every inch of her body. The pool at the bottom tickled her ankles and massaged her feet as she washed Eli and the memories away.

She was alone with her thoughts, sorting them and wondering just why she had no remorse. Goodness knows the man had to die; he deserved no less; but she had expected to feel some guilt, some regret.

Instead, she felt satisfaction. It frightened her a bit, made her see a darkness she hadn't realized was there. The months since Jack and Toby were killed had shown her a great deal of anger she had never possessed before. There were days when she had done nothing but cry, days where she had screamed at God, the Devil, and all the Angels in rage. She had days where she sat in the corner and did nothing; thought nothing, felt nothing. She had days where she pretended it didn't happen; days she went to school and work and everything was okee-dokee til she went home and saw the pain in her parent's faces.

It helped, actually, knowing that one of the men that took her loved ones away was dead and gone. It made her want to kill the others more; to feel this moment of peace and absolute rightness. The world would be better without creatures like them around. Safer. Less evil; even if only a little bit.

She wondered which of the vile men they would kill next? Would Boogey be her companion, or Eldore? She looked forward to working with both of them, if they were anything like Arach. She stepped out of the shower at last, grabbed a towel hanging from a nearby tree branch, and dried herself in the warm, pale sunlight that seemed to seep in from every nook and cranny. She wished she could bring her Aboveground family here. She thought maybe the brilliant colored flowers and sweet smells could soothe Karen's broken heart a little. She wasn't sure anything would help her poor father, though. He wasn't as strong as Karen. He was too nervy, too close to breakdown at all times.

She wrapped herself in a warm, fluffy green robe and made her way to the bed. She sat down on it, finding it perfectly suited to her. She laid back, sighed, and immediately fell asleep.

_She was dreaming, she knew that. Things were hazy, not well defined. She was in the house she and Jack had, washing dishes and listening to the radio. Two men were talking about a series of gruesome murders. She was only half listening, dipping a knife in and out of the sink. She rinse it, hummed tunelessly, and looked down into the water._

_It wasn't water, it was blood. Thick and hot on her hands. She looked at her palms, her fingers, her nails. She was red from the wrist down. There were bones bobbing in and out of the gore. She watched in fascination as a skull came rolling up from the blood, its sockets staring up at her._

"_Bitch," the skull said in Eli's voice. It sank back into the red and did not reappear. She ran her hands under the tap, then dried them, still humming._

_She turn to the stove and pulled out a roast. She placed it on the table, setting out place mats for herself, Toby, and Jack. She went to the fridge, ignored the human arm sitting beside the tub of butter and grabbed the macaroni salad._

_She brushed a hand over her forehead, glanced around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, and went to get her family._

_Jack was in pieces on the couch, his head staring sightlessly at the TV. Toby was naked and bloody, lying on the floor._

"_Aren't you hungry?" she asked them. They didn't answer. Sarah sighed, rubbed her eyes, then went back to the kitchen. "I'll just put it away for later then."_

_She put the roast in the fridge, moving a torso out of the way to make room. She stood up, turned, and came face to face with Jareth. He was watching her with this sad look on his face. His gray vest was covered in blood, his pretty cheek spattered with it. He looked tired, worried._

"_Would you like some roast? I only just put it away," she offered, motioning to the still open fridge. Jareth shook his head, turned, and went into the living room with Toby and Jack. She followed after him, leaving the fridge door open. Jareth wasn't in there; neither was Toby or Jack. The room was drenched in blood, with Eli's stone form on the floor, the albino's nearly split in half on the recliner, the redhead eviscerated on the couch, and the rapist was hanging from the ceiling fan, his arms and legs hacked away._

_She looked at them without interest, turned, and walked out the front door. Boogey was there, with Arach and Eldore beside him. He was beckoning to her with one finger, smiling his sickening smile._

"_Time to wake up," he said in Jack's voice, and coughed up blood all over her._

Sarah bolted awake, sitting up as she gasped for breath. Jareth was there, sitting beside her, his eyes wide and watching her. She looked at him, and for a moment, saw the smattering of blood on his cheek and collar. She blinked and he was perfect once again.

"Sorry," she croaked, her mouth awful and dry. "Nightmare."

"It's fine," he said, pressing a cold glass of water in her hand. "Do you want to tell me your nightmare?"

Sarah opened her mouth, thought it over, then closed it. "No, thank you," she said, taking a gulp of water. "I just want to forget it."

"As you wish," he said, taking the glass from her trembling fingers and placed it on the side table. "Are you ready to go home?"

She bit her lip and sighed. "I guess I have to face the real world sometime. But what do I say? What do I do?"

"Nothing. You do not know anything about Eli, about the others. You went away to calm yourself. You will return, you will resume your work and school, and you will pretend everything is all right," he said. He met her eyes, smiled a bit. "Call to me when you have some time to yourself. A weekend when your family is out, something along those lines."

"Dad and Karen are supposed to visit Grandma Louise," she said, blinking slowly. "They'll be gone three days."

"Good, good," Jareth said quietly. "Call to me then. I will send you on your way."

"No one can trace Eli's death to me?" she asked, once again overcome by the lack of feeling when it came to his death.

"No," he said. "There is no evidence, no body. But that may not be the case from now on. Not all your victims will turn to stone and shatter, Sarah."

She nodded, chewing her lip. "Of course. Thank you."

Jareth motioned to the nearby chair, where one of her Aboveground outfits lay. "Get dressed and I shall send you home, pet."

She looked at the familiar clothes, felt a sense of welcome; home. Sarah sighed, closing her eyes against it all for a moment. Jareth's fingers trailed over her cheek as he rose. She watched him leave the room, pulled the covers up to her chin, and wondered just how she was supposed to be "normal" ever again.


	6. Enter William McDonald, Detective

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Six: Enter William McDonald, Detective

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Going home was not as hard as she had imagined. She had supposedly gone away for her mental health, and indeed, she felt better. Since killing Eli, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. There was no sense of sadness, of guilt. There was an elation, an acceptance. She greeted her Dad and Karen warmly, hugging them both, glad to hold living people in her arms. Seeing Karen's red-rimmed eyes, her father's haunted face just made her want to kill the next monster even more.

She went to school, went to work, the grocery store, for walks, and to the world was perfectly normal and fine. The day before her dad and Karen were to leave to see sickly Grandma Louise in New Hampshire, there came a knock at the door. Sarah answered it, and knew at once that the man before her was a cop.

Sarah had seen lots of cops since Toby and Jack had been killed. They all had a way about them, an air of impatience and discomfort. This one was young, handsome even. He had wavy black hair, piercing green eyes, and wore the ridiculous brown overcoat every cop that had been to her house seemed to prefer. "Miss Sarah Williams?" he asked in a surprisingly pleasant voice. "My name is Detective William McDonald, police. Might I come in, talk to you a bit? I'm taking over your fiance and brother's case."

"Yes, come in," she said, stepping aside to allow him in. He came in, wiping his feet on the mat. It was a curiously courteous thing to do. Most of the other cops just seemed to traipse about her home as if it didn't mean a thing. "Please, sit down," she said, motioning to the couch. "Would you like a drink?"

"Some water, please," he said with a warm smile. She returned with the water, sat down across from him, and waited. "Detective Gregory has retired. I'll be investigating what happened to your fiance and brother now. I wanted to come see you and your parents, get to know you a bit. Get to know Jack and Toby through you."

He sounded so sincere, so caring.

"I've told everything I know," she said quietly. McDonald was watching her with compassion and curiosity.

"Yes, of course," he said, sitting forward, on the edge of the couch. He seemed to be on edge constantly, ready to bolt. "I'm just here to let you know we're still working on it. I want to find the people who did this to your loved ones, Miss Williams."

Sarah stared at him, wondering what it was he really wanted. Something was off-putting about him. Something wasn't quite right. "I hope you can," she said, instantly aware that something in her caught his interest. He was watching her closely now, his eyes crinkling with concentration. "Is there anything I can tell you?" she asked, feeling her stomach clench at the slight change in his expression.

"Miss Williams, have you thought of anything, anything at all that could help us?"

She waited, remembering for a moment the flash of Jareth's memories, the faces of the men who killed her family. She had no way of telling this man who they were; indeed she didn't even yet know their names. "No, nothing," she said quietly.

McDonald opened his mouth, only to pause as the front door opened and Sarah's dad and Karen came in. They had been shopping for travel necessities, and were carrying a few bags. They stopped, looking between Sarah and McDonald.

He was on his feet in an instant, introducing himself to them. He shook their hands, gave the usual "sorry for your loss" and asked if he may speak with them as well.

Karen looked stricken as she accepted, grabbing Robert's arm. They lay their bags on the steps, wandered into the Living Room. Sarah rose, helping Karen to the couch, her brow puckered with worry as she looked at her Step-Mother. Karen caught her eye and for a moment and looked totally terrified. Sarah blinked and Karen was once again simply grief stricken. Sarah went to move away, but Karen's hand stayed her, tugging her down beside her. Robert took his seat on Karen's other side. Karen was gripping her hand so tightly it hurt.

McDonald asked all the usual questions, said all the usual things. His eyes kept straying to Sarah, an indefinable look on his face.

Sarah held Karen's hand quietly, listening to the questions, occasionally piping in her own thoughts. Robert spoke little, and when he did, his voice was stilted and rough. Karen's voice shook with tears, her eyes swimming with them.

McDonald left after about an hour of questioning. Sarah felt uneasy, somehow certain he suspected her of...something. Karen retreated to her room, while Robert remained on the couch, staring at the picture of Toby on top of the TV.

Sarah went to the kitchen and did dishes. She kept looking down into the water, waiting for it to turn to blood. The dream was so vivid. She could hear Karen crying up in her room, sobbing loudly. Robert went to her at last, moving mechanically.

The water never turned to blood.

Her parents left the following morning. Sarah dropped them off at the airport, smiling bravely for them, returning Karen's lingering, almost desperate embrace.

"Please Sarah, please be careful while we are gone," she had whispered into Sarah's ear.

Sarah sighed, returning to her family's home. She wandered the house, finally stopping before Toby's room, her hand on the doorknob.

She hadn't been in there since his death. Karen had gone in and out a few times, crying into his pillow, hugging Lancelot to her chest. Robert hadn't dared. Sarah hadn't the strength to face it, until now.

She opened the door slowly, and was immediately hit by loss. She walked in, staring at his little play desk, a drawing he had been working on still on it. There was a thin veneer of dust on everything. Her eyes filled with tears as she lifted Lancelot, laying on Toby's bed, beside a battered copy of the Wizard of Oz. Toby had loved that book.

His room had been a fantasy room; just like hers. There were movie posters from his favorite fantasy films, his book shelf was stocked with fantasy tales. He had figurine's of goblins, monsters, fairies, kings, and unicorns everywhere.

She lifted a familiar bookend; one of her old ones, and was reminded of how much it looked like Hoggle.

Sarah went to the play-desk, stared down at the drawing. Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted it, the tears free flowing down her cheeks.

He had titled the drawing "My Sister and Her Friends". It was clumsy, like a seven year old's art would be, but she could tell who everyone was. She could see herself in the white and blue dressed figure, could see Hoggle at her side, with Ludo in the background, Sir Didymus upon Ambrois at her feet. On a big tree they were standing under was a white bird; an owl.

She had told Toby fairy stories about the Labyrinth. Had made her friends into heroes for his imagination. Why he had put her in the picture, wearing a cartoony version of the outfit she had worn that fateful night was beyond her. Sarah dropped the picture and looked towards the picture window.

Jareth was sitting on the seat within the window frame. He was watching her with his mismatched eyes.

"I didn't call you yet," she said, her voice strangled.

"Not aloud," he said, rising gracefully. He came to her, lifted the drawing from the desk. "He was a special child. I was very fond of him."

Sarah watched his face, saw the regret there, the longing. She lifted her arms on impulse, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, the drawing crinkling a bit in his fingers.

"I'm ready," she said into his shirt, tightening her grasp on him.

"Good," he said, and the world disappeared into a burst of glitter and fairy dust.


	7. What the Fuck?

A/N: I would like to begin by apologizing to my anonymous reviewers. I have removed your reviews due to the accusation I have been self-reviewing. This accusation is 100% false. I will continue to read unsigned reviews, but will then delete them. I appreciate your support for SBS and I have never had anything against anonymous reviews. I am offended and hurt by this accusation. I will finish posting SBS without fail. The reviewer who accused me of this left no contact information, and as such, I will not respond directly to him or her. As it is, I hope the people reading this story enjoy it. Reviews are nice, and I do enjoy them, but I wrote SBS just to write it.

Yours,

Echo the Insane

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Seven: What the Fuck?

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

She opened her eyes and was greeted by the dim, almost faded twilight of the Dark Labyrinth. They had materialized on the hill just above it; the dark mirror image of the one where she had first entered the Light Labyrinth. Jareth's arms were still around her, holding her loosely to him. She looked up at his face, staring in wonder at the tears in his eyes. He released her slowly, Toby's drawing still in his hand.

"You did care about my brother, didn't you?" she asked needlessly, reaching up and brushing a tear from his cheek.

"He was special," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Sarah, if I could have saved him or your beloved I -"

"I know," she said, grabbing his free hand and squeezing it. He looked haunted, his eyes downcast. She was certain of it now, no matter what his other motives might have been, he genuinely wanted revenge along side her. "Who will be my companion in slaughter today?" she asked bravely, giving him a smile when he looked at her.

"Boogeyman," Jareth said loudly, summoning the creeping, gray figure to his side. Boogey seemed to ooze out of the atmosphere; his long arms appearing first, following by his glistening head and grinning face. Within a heartbeat, he was crouched at Sarah's feet, grinning happily up at her.

"Hello Boogey," she greeted, smiling a bit at the ghastly figure.

"Hiya Sarah," Boogey said, his tongue lulling out between his teeth. He reached up and took her hand, holding it as he moved to her side. "Hiya Kingy."

"Hello Boogey," Jareth replied, giving him a small smile. "You will lead Sarah to her next victim."

"Carl," Boogey said with relish, licking his thin lips.

"Carl," Sarah repeated, wondering which of the monsters he was.

"Go on then," Jareth dismissed, turning his back to them and towards the looming Dark Labyrinth. "I will be waiting, should you need me." He began to walk towards the iron gate leading into the Labyrinth, opening them with a wave of his hand, Toby's drawing clutched at his side.

Sarah watched him go, wanting to say something but not knowing what. She almost called out to him, but Boogey was tugging her hand and looking at her in expectation. "Let's go then Boogey."

He grinned, squeezing her fingers. She blinked and they were off.

* * *

><p><p>

Despite what you may think, Carl loved children. He loved them so much he made his life's work out of helping them. Carl was a nurse in the children's ward at his local hospital in Vermont, and of all the monsters involved in death of that man and that boy, perhaps Carl had the most remorse. He didn't care that the man was dead; he was an adult. But the kid's death and the way it had happened had given Carl a little grief in the past few months. So much grief, in fact, Carl was having a hard time sleeping.

He was dreaming a lot, you see. He had dreams that the kid (he didn't know the boy's name, after all) was begging for help, trying to crawl away from Travis, trying to get Carl to come save him. See, Carl hadn't known what Travis was doing. He'd known Travis since grade school and always known Travis was a bit odd and sick, but had no idea he liked to screw little kids. If he hadn't been having so much fun killing that guy, maybe he'd have noticed his old buddy was raping and killing the little one. He'd thought Travis would just knock the kid out, then come help them finish off the dude.

He'd actually been sick in the lake when he'd seen the kid's body. He'd still been alive; barely. Gasping and on his way out. Carl'd seen some kids go out that way; gasping and twitching. The blood and savagery was new to him though. Seeing a kid raped and bleeding to death gave him nightmares like you wouldn't believe.

Carl's co-workers noticed the change in him. He gave a quick sob story that his nephew had been killed in another state and he was taking it hard. He even described the poor kid Travis had killed. He mourned the little guy. Too bad he'd been on a fishing trip with his brother or whoever that guy was.

To this day, he wasn't sure why Travis had suggested they kill someone together. Travis, Mack, Eli, and himself had always been cruel. They had tortured animals, even burnt down an abandoned house before they were out of grade school, but they'd never killed anyone. Sure, Carl was pretty certain Travis had killed someone in his days living down in Texas, but Travis never said as much and Carl wasn't asking.

But that day they'd had too much to drink, hadn't caught a damn fish, and had nothing better to do.

"Let's kill the next asshole that comes here!" Travis had said, his eyes alight with mischief. "I bet y'all can't do it."

"I can," Mack had grunted. Carl had always wondered if maybe Mack had killed someone, probably while he was in the pen some years back.

Eli had just laughed, drinking another beer and snorting half of it out. "Hells yes, let's do it!" he had proclaimed. Carl went along, sure they were just bullshitting like usual.

Then the guy and the kid had driven up, not ten minutes later. It was like fate or something. So Travis said "Let's do it" and suddenly they were doing it. Carl never had much of a conscience so killing the guy still didn't do him any trouble, but the kid...the kid.

So sometimes Carl drifted off at work, after a day full of terror and bloody dreams. Carl worked the night shift, you see, in that hospital. He liked the little ones, and one of his favorite things to do was to wake up a kid having a nightmare. They always treated him like a hero, "Oh thank you, Mr. Carl! I was so scared!" they would say and he'd pat their hand and walk away feeling a bit better, til he'd remember that little boy all bloody and violated. Then he'd feel like a villain, go back to his desk, and nod off for another short bout with the demons.

It was one of those nights. Carl had been having the worst dreams yet. Someone was chasing him and he couldn't get away. A woman was laughing and he couldn't find from where. The kid was dead and he kept running passed the tree where he was laid out, the woman's laugh right behind him and the chasing feeling getting stronger.

"Carl, honey, you need to see a doctor about these nightmares," Ms. Gay said. Ms. Gay was the head nurse and naturally very worried about him. He had promised her he would, but he just hadn't gotten it yet. After this last bout of dreams, he was ready to see someone about it.

So now he sat, half asleep over his cup of coffee. It was about two in the morning on a Friday night, and Carl really didn't want to fall asleep. He checked the monitors above the nursery, above the maturity ward, above the halls, and all was clear. There were no call signals from any of the rooms. He was fading fast, but man he was trying so hard to keep awake.

He just happened to look back in on the nursery when he noticed something was...off. There was a crib, with an odd shadow over it. All the other cribs were bright and easy to see, but this one looked hazy; like a veil was over it. He counted it, saw that the odd crib was number 15 – he was sure that crib was empty. But the weird veil was not to be ignored, so he rose and made his way towards the nursery.

The halls were quiet, empty. His footsteps were the only sound. He had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders stooped. He wondered if it was just an equipment malfunction. Best to check it, just in case.

Then, he heard the sound. It was like the scrapings of a very large spider, climbing the wall beside him. He stopped, looked around, and saw nothing. He scowled, hunched his shoulders a bit more, and continued.

The sound continued with him. He stopped, spun about, and watched as a medical cart that should have been secured to the wall rolled lazily across the floor. It didn't hold medical supplies; but a tire iron, a machete, and a baseball bat instead.

The sound was suddenly above him, running rapidly over the ceiling. He looked up, caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of his eye, and ran.

It was like the dream, only here in the hospital instead of the lake. The scrapings were hurried now, frantic as the thing chased him. He nearly ran into a gurney, which was rolling lazily like the cart, the boy's body laying on its stomach on the metal surface.

Someone was laughing. It would have been a beautiful sound, any other time than this.

He was running towards the laughter, away from the scurrying thing, which was now on the floor just feet behind him. He looked over his shoulder, caught sight of a gray thing hot on his heels. He screamed, tried to run faster, looked straight ahead and...saw her.

She was beautiful. A woman with long brown hair, wearing a red tank top and black jeans. She was laughing, her hands on her hips, watching him run from whatever that thing was.

"Hello, Carl," she said just as the creature caught him about his ankles. He fell, the creature climbing his back, its gnarled hands grasping his throat. "Ready to die?"

And he woke up, screaming into his arms, his head on the desk.

Carl looked around frantically, seeing that once again, he'd just had a really bad dream. He gulped some air, wiped the sweat from his brow, and tried to steady himself.

"See, you dumbfuck?" he muttered to himself. "Just a bad dream. Nothing's chasing you, no woman laughing, no dead kid." He looked up a the monitor. "No veil-thingy on...number...15."

But there was. That same shadow he had dreamed of was there. Carl's stomach dropped. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep after seeing that shadow. Yeah, that's what it was. There was no way something he dreamed was real. "Equipment, gotta be the equipment."

So unlike in his dream, he turned on the number six monitor, which showed another angle into the nursery. To his growing fright, the shadow was still there, clearly shown from another angle. There was no attending nurse in the nursery for the moment, just him to go see what the hell that shadow was.

He rose in shaking legs, terrible fear welling up in him. What if it wasn't a dream? What if it was a premonition? What if that chasing monster and woman were waiting for him out there?

But what about the babies? What if that shadow was something bad, something that would hurt the babies?

He thought about that little kid, all bloody and wronged. Could have live with himself if a whole room full of babies ended up that way?

So with his legs trembling, his throat knotted, his stomach twisting, Carl went out into the hall and towards the nursery, this time in real life and not in a dream.

The hall was quiet, just like in his dream. There was a medical cart attached to the wall, just as in his dream. He passed it with ease; it did not come unlatched. The empty gurney towards the end of the hall did not roll, didn't even twitch. He jumped at every sound, yet nothing happened. By the time he reached the nursery, his terror had slowed, but still hung in the back of his mind.

He came in slowly, looking from each bed to the next, finding nothing amiss. He came at last to number 15, which in person looked as normal and empty as many of the other beds around it. Carl heaved a sigh of relief, standing over the crib with shoulders sagged and mouth dry.

The little white baby blanket moved. It was just a twitch, a small shift. But it shouldn't have – it was empty. Carl stared at it, his eyes wide as the blanket shifted again, just below the top of it. His fingers were shaking, and why he was doing this, he would never know, but he grasped the edge of the blanket, paused, the shaking going all the way up and down his body, he yanked it back.

The bed was empty, as he had first thought. Carl gasped a sigh of relief, grabbing his heart. Of course it was empty. Of course.

Then the gray, gnarled arm from his dream shot up from the clean, white sheet. The talloned hand had his throat, yanking him down towards the bed. Carl was screaming, the world went black, and when he opened his eyes, he was still in the nursery.

Yet it wasn't the nursery. Carl was alone, sitting on a rust covered floor, staring at the legs of a derelict and rusted crib. The ceiling tiles were falling in, with wires hanging dangerously near the beds. He was gasping, grabbing his throat, where he could still feel those gray fingers closed around it. He was sure he was bruised. The lights flickered on and off, casting a stark orange glow around him.

He rose on quaking legs, staring in horror at the room around him. The curtains were torn, the sheets stained with what looked like very old blood. He looked from one crib to the next, finding some empty, others occupied with the little skeletal remains of newborns.

Carl clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream, hysteria welling up inside him. This was hell. He had died and gone to hell for killing that man and not saving that kid. He stumbled to the door, out into the hall, which looked just as awful as the nursery. The gurney had a huge, gaping rust hole in it, one of its legs bent and wheel broken off. The cart was covered in scalpels, all rusted and caked with human gore.

The smell was unbelievable. It smelt like burnt flesh, old blood, and excrement. He looked in one room after another, finding them all like the nursery. Some empty, some with the old bones of the long dead.

He was climbing down the stairs (he didn't even try the elevators) when he heard the familiar scraping shuffle from his nightmares. He moaned, shoving his fist into his mouth as he began to run down the steps.

"Please God, please!" he begged, sobbing against his fist. "I'm so damn sorry! I wish I could change it."

"Change what, Carl?" a familiar female voice asked as he rounded the last set of steps, nearly running right into the girl. She was wearing the red tank top, the black jeans. She was waiting for him, her hair lank around her face. Her eyes were wide and a warm hazel, so compelling he froze on the bottom step, almost falling as he stopped.

"I-I'm sorry," he pleaded, praying with all his might that this girl could maybe spare him. "I'm so sorry Miss."

"For what, Carl?" she asked, stepping so close to him her breath tickled his face. She was looking up at him with those beautiful, terrible eyes.

"I killed a man," he whispered, leaning close to her. "My buddy, Travis, he killed a little kid. I didn't know he was killing the boy, I swear it!" he said breathlessly, looking over his shoulder. The creature was nowhere in sight. "I wouldn't kill a kid. I'd'a stopped him if I knew he was doing that."

"He didn't just kill the boy," she said. "What else did he do, Carl?"

Carl shook his head, his eyes wide. "I-I-"

"What else?"

He gulped, his skin wet with perspiration. "He raped him. I didn't know Travis was sick like that, Miss! I swear it!"

"And the man you killed? Are you sorry he's dead?"

"Yes!" Carl said desperately. "Oh yes, I'm so damn sorry!"

The woman chuckled. The sound sent him into silence, chilling him to his toes. She let out a bark of a laugh, which turned into the hysterical peels of his dreams. Carl moaned, sinking onto the step, covering his head with his hands. He heard the scurrying close behind him, didn't move to run away anymore. Wouldn't do any good anyway.

"Don't lie to me, Carl. I see your heart. You should see it too."

His back burned. Carl gasped, his head jerking back, blood gurgling at his lips. He looked down, seeing that gnarled hand covered in blood, sticking out of his chest. His heart was in its hand, impossibly still attached to the veins and arteries. He watched it beating, his lungs filling with blood as he coughed, staring in pain at the organ being squeezed by that awful hand.

He screamed, though it was muted by all the blood in his mouth, as the creature used his other hand to peel a strip of skin from his cheek. The thing stuffed the strip into his mouth.

"Quiet now," the creature growled into his ears. "Screams ugly before Sarah."

Carl looked up at Sarah, her legs splattered with his blood and muscle, her expression cold and eyes full of contempt.

"Bye Carl," she said as the creature squeezed his beating heart into pulp. Carl tried to scream, the strip of skin gagging him. The world pulsed, turning blacker with each second his heart did not beat. He didn't die instantly, but stared up at her beautiful, hateful face until his blood stopped flowing and his brain at last ceased function. The last thing Carl thought was stupid, simple; "She's so damn pretty, what the fuck?"

What the fuck indeed.


	8. Mirrors and Phones

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Eight: Mirrors and Phones

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

"Sarah?"

Sarah looked down at Boogey, his gray skin glowing orange in the deep twilight of the Dark Labyrinth. His eyeless face was turned up towards her, his mouth split in its customary grin. He reached up and took her hand, his taloned fingers wrapping around hers.

"Yes, Boogey?"

"Present for pretty Sarah," he said, squeezing her fingers. Sarah breathed in deep, a sudden gust of warm air tickling over her face. She closed her eyes, suddenly aware of smells she had never dreamt of before. She could smell the sweet tinged with iron scent of the red blooms carpetting the walls of the Dark Labyrinth, the decay of Boogey's skin, the vanilla of her shampoo. Everything was heightened, was clear. She smelt beautiful things and awful things, all separate and individual.

"Thank you, Boogey," she said, smiling down at him. Boogey's grin grew, his tongue lulling out.

"Good people smell yummy," Boogey said, tilting his head. "Sarah smells like cookies." Sarah smiled again, receiving a Boogey grin. "Bad people smell like old socks, garbage, yuckies. Easy for Sarah to know good and bad now."

Sarah took in another deep breath, smelling the dryness of the Labyrinth's air. Her brow puckered in confusion. "Boogey, does it ever rain here?"

"Rain water?" Boogey asked, tilting his head.

"Yes."

"No water, no," Boogey said, grinning up at her.

"Then how do the flowers grow here?"

His grin widened, becoming horrible and sinister. "Blood of the dead feeds the pretty flowers."

Sarah's stomach knotted. "Like Eli and Carl?"

Boogey nodded slowly, his lulling tongue licking across his non-existent lips. "Eli and Carl fed lots of pretty flowers."

Sarah looked at the red blossoms, understanding the slight iron smell. She walked over to them, running her finger over the petals. They were moist, and when she looked at her fingertips, they were slightly stained with blood. She rubbed it between her fingers, wondering how many people the Dark Labyrinth had killed. She looked out to the countless bloom and was sure she would never know.

"Sarah," Jareth's voice rang out. Boogey bowed to Sarah, giving her one last smile before he disappeared into the shadow of a nearby tree. "Come. You need a shower, then to return home, I think."

Sarah smiled a bit at him, her fingers trailing over the blooms one more time, wiping the red of them onto her jeans.

* * *

><p>Home was very quiet without Karen or Robert there. Sarah would be alone for at least another two days with nothing to do. She made herself a sandwich for an early dinner and looked closely at her childhood home.<p>

Things were being neglected. Robert and Karen just didn't have the strength or care to clean much. Oh it wasn't horrible, it just wasn't great. There was a thin layer of dust on top of the TV, dishes piled up in the sink, laundry to be washed. This never would have been the case before Toby's death; Karen was a neat freak beyond description.

Sarah sat her empty plate aside and started on the weeks worth in the sink. She washed, dried, and put them away. She started a load of laundry, dusted the ceiling fans, the shelving, and the coffee table. She vacuumed, she pledged, she even got around to taking out the trash.

It was on her way to the can out at the curb that she noticed it; an unfamiliar car. It was black, shiny, and very obviously an unmarked police car. So Detective McDonald was watching her house. Sarah tried not to look at the car too long, tried not to act out of the ordinary. She went to the mail box, retrieved at least a weeks worth of mail, then went back inside. She sighed deeply, pausing to look in the hall mirror. As she had done countless times before the murders of her brother and fiance, she looked deep into it and spoke; not to her friends of old, but the King of Goblins himself.

"The police are watching me," she said to it.

Jareth appeared an instant later. He looked disheveled, as though he'd only just awoken. He was even rubbing his eye. It was another oddly human thing that made him seem more and more like a person and less like a supernatural force of nature. "Why on earth would your police force do such a thing?"

She filled him in on Detective McDonald's appearance, his odd reaction to her, his watching. Jareth scowled throughout the process, his eyes narrowed and brow creased.

"I suppose he thought you weren't grieving enough," he scoffed. "A young man, you said?"

"Late twenties."

The Goblin King did not roll his eyes, but the expression on his face was equivalent. "He's going on a "hunch" as you humans call it. Probably showing off for a promotion or some such. You aren't acting as he thinks you should, therefore you bare watching. Sarah, you will have to appear a bit more maudlin."

She stared blankly at him for a moment, before she sighed. It wasn't as if she wasn't grieving Jack and Toby. She was. There were days she wanted to do nothing more than cry herself to death. The revenge had given her purpose though, drive. Perhaps that's what McDonald saw in her. "I'm not going to turn into a weeping mess before him. My grief is my own." She held her chin up high, meeting Jareth's eyes.

"I know, pet," he said patiently. "I doubt he will be a problem. Do they have a single clue on who killed your fiance and brother?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Then they cannot have reason to suspect you are picking their murderers off," he smiled then, leaning towards the mirror. "Just try not to raise his suspicions more, pet."

Sarah nodded, taking a deep breath. To her surprise, she could smell Jareth through the connection. He smelt like honeysuckle and a fine wine. She told him as much, to which he laughed. "Yes, Boogey's gift to you is quite useful."

They spoke for a few minutes more, careful not to talk about anything important. She asked what was happening in the Light Labyrinth, he told her the Goblins were having Burning Day – the day they burnt every single thing not bolted to the floor in the Goblin City.

"Don't worry," he said, clearly bored, "they will just invade the dump and find new things to clutter the city with."

Sarah smiled, enjoying his tales of Goblin foolishness. Just as her legs were getting tired from standing in the same place, an oddly cool expression came over his face.

"I have to go, pet. Summoning." He disappeared, her own reflection peering back at herself in concern. He'd seemed so miserable for just a moment.

Sarah walked lazily into the living room, plopping down onto the couch. Her nose instantly crinkled in distaste. It reeked. She stood up immediately, going to the kitchen cabinet for some air freshener The darn thing smelt like weeks old trash set under the sun. She sprayed it down from end to end, taking a deep breath. It still stunk, only now like flowers and weeks old trash under the sun. She propped open the wind above the couch, hoping the smell would fade.

Sarah went instead to her Dad's study, wanting to watch a bit of television. The living room just stank way too much to bare with her new senses. She opened the door to the study, taking a small, experimental sniff. It smelt OK in here. A bit like old socks, but most the air freshener Karen had set up in there after she'd cleaned it two days ago. Sarah sank into the white chair in front of her Dad's desk. The big leather one he preferred was uncomfortable to her. She picked up the remote off his oak desk and turned on the television.

Her cheeks rushed red, because the channel it was set on was a very adult one. Sure, she was twenty-one and no virgin, but thinking of her Dad sitting in his study watching porn was not a mental image she wanted. She wasn't even sure when the last time he had used the TV in here. She quickly changed the channel, settling on a show about elephants. Elephants were good. Nothing bad there.

About a half hour into the very interesting show on elephants, the phone rang. Sarah jumped, startled out of her interest, her heart racing as she fumbled to grab the stupid, loud thing.

"Sarah?" Karen's voice said from the other end. "Honey we'll be staying with Louise a bit longer. She's sicker than we imagined. Will you be okay for a few days more?"

"I'll be fine, Karen," she replied, actually relieved at the news. It would be easier to find and kill the remaining two monsters without worrying about her family underfoot. "I have plenty of groceries. I have some things to catch up on, so the quiet will help me."

"Are you sure?" Karen asked, sounding far more concerned than she should have been. "Honey I can get you a ticket to come join us. Yes, I think that would be best."

"Karen, I'm fine, really," Sarah said, scowling a bit.

"Are you sure, sweetie? You haven't been alone since..."

Suddenly all of Karen's extra hugging and worried looks the last week made since. Sarah hadn't been alone since Jack and Toby were killed. In fact, Karen and her Dad had been nothing less than clingy since then. She was only alone when at school, bathing, or asleep. She blinked, wondering how she missed that.

"I went away for a few days," she reminded her step-mother.

"But you were with your friend, Kathleen," Karen reminded her in return. Jareth's fiction seemed to be holding up on her disappearance.

"Karen, I promise I will be fine. But," she added for her step-mother's sake, "if I start feeling bad, I will call you. I promise I will."

Karen was silent a moment, then sighed. "Please, just please stay safe. Lock the doors! Don't go outside after dark."

"I will be beyond careful Karen," she promised.

"Okay. Sarah, I love you so much."

Sarah's heart clenched. She could hear the tears in Karen's voice. "I love you too."

They hung up, Sarah's lip caught between her teeth. She hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with Karen, but since Sarah's run through the Labyrinth those years ago and her attitude change there-after, they had come to an accord. Since then, they'd even become friends. She didn't doubt that Karen loved her, didn't doubt that she loved Karen.

She would kill the last two monsters. For Jack, for Toby, and for Karen.

A little while later, after she made sure all the doors and windows were locked, Sarah sunk into a hot bath, filled with bubbles that smelt good, but slightly medicinal to her enhanced nose. Pains and stiffness she had been unaware of moments before worked out of her body, relaxing her within minutes.

The phone was ringing again. Sarah groaned, running a damp hand over her face. "Let the machine get it," she muttered, sinking into the tub down to her shoulders.

The machine was right outside in the hall just feet from the bathroom door. She heard the familiar greeting, recorded by Karen. Then; "Sarah? Baby? It's Mom, are you there?"

She was out of the tub like a shot, grabbing a towel from the rack. She almost slid on the slick floor as she ran into the hall, bumping hard into a side table with a lamp on it. She grimaced, then stumbled to the phone.

"Mom?" she answered breathlessly, turning off the machine.

"Sarah!" she said, sounding relieved. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I haven't called. My God, are you okay? I only just got your letter! They kept the stupid thing for four months, can you believe it? Russian mail is so censored and over-checked it took this long."

Tears prickled her eyes. Sarah had known it would take ages to get word to her Mom about Jack and Toby. She was currently in a year long, city-to-city production of a well known play over in Russia.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, sounding anything but. "I tried to call but all the numbers were bad."

"I'm so sorry baby. We changed buildings and headquarters so much its been crazy. I'm just thankful I got your letter. Sweetheart, I'm calling you because I'm not in Russia anymore."

Sarah blinked, biting her lip as she brushed tears from her cheek. "Where are you?" she asked quietly, sounding very much like a hurt little child.

Her mother's tone changed at the sound, going suddenly soft and gentle. "At the international airport an hour away from you baby. I'm home."

Sarah sobbed, laughing happily into the phone. Hearing her Mom's voice, knowing she was close almost sent her into hysterics. "Mama, its been so hard," she whispered into the receiver.

"Oh baby I'm coming. I'm waiting for my cab right now. Tell Robert and Karen I'm on my way; I don't want to surprise them."

"T-They're not here. Grandma Louise is really sick."

"Okay. We'll phone them later then," Linda said, her voice strong. "The cab's here baby. I'll see you soon. I love you Bug."

"I love you Mama."

Sarah hung up, hiccuping as she slid down the wall. She clutched the towel close to her, rubbing her eyes as she sobbed. Her Mom had come home for her. Her Mom, who had missed every event of any importance since Sarah's tenth birthday had come home for her at last. She would take Linda to see Jack and Toby's graves. She could grieve with her Mom. She didn't have to be strong. She could be a little lost girl at last.

A shadow fell over her. Sarah jerked her head up, her eyes wide. Jareth was kneeling before her, brushing his gloved fingers over her cheek. "You all right, pet?" he asked quietly.

Sarah stared at him a moment, her face screwing up as she tried not to cry. His arms were around her suddenly, his face buried in her hair.

"It's okay, sweetling. It's okay to cry. I'll stay til your mother comes."

She gripped the lapels of his vest, sobbing pathetically against his chest. For four months, Sarah had tried her best to be the strength her hurting family needed. She had held them up, held herself together. She had fought and fought and was so tired of fighting. Jareth lifted her from the hall floor, carrying her gently to her room. He sat her on her bed, sat beside her, holding her as she wept.

The vengeance gave her purpose, but never dulled the pain. Jack used to hold her like this, when she needed comfort. He kissed the crown of her head, just as Jareth was doing now.

Now Jack was in pieces, his strong arms torn and rotting in the grave.

She remembered holding Toby when he was scared of thunderstorms. She remembered telling him stories to make him stop crying, to chase away the fear.

He was rotting too, his back in shreds, violated.

She muffled a scream into his chest. He rocked her back and forth. "No nightmares, pet," he whispered into her ear. "I'll keep them away, I promise."

She clung tightly to him, feeling her chest swell with warmth for him, despite the horrible sinking grief inside her. "They're dead, Jareth."

"I know, sweetling," he whispered, kissing her temple. "If I could bring them back, I would."

Her heart was racing from the exertion of crying months worth of tears. Her face was cold from the tears, stiff. She was sure her hair was matting with each second, and she was very much under dressed.

He released her slowly, as if aware of her thoughts. "I'll step outside so you can dress."

He rose, pausing only when she grabbed his hand. "Thank you," she whispered, staring at his gloved fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

"For you, anything," he said, touching her cheek before he departed.


	9. Linda

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Nine: Linda

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Jareth was true to his word. He sat quietly with her, even going so far as to help brush a tangle from her hair. He held her hand when she offered it, sung a quiet song to her in some unknown language to pass some time (he did have a lovely voice), and even did a couple of tricks with the crystals to keep her mind off things. The moment the doorbell rang, he rose from her bed, kissed her temple, and disappeared into his customary cloud of glitter and fairy dust.

Her Mom was just as she remembered, though there were a few more lines around her mouth and at her eyes, plus a gray hair mixed here and there. Linda was tall, graceful, and for the first time that Sarah could remember, was in tears.

They hugged for what seemed forever, until an unkind blast of wind reminded them they were outside in the chill. Sarah ushered Linda in, taking in the sweet strawberry smell of her. She had always thought her mother was a good, if not slightly selfish and silly person. The "good" smell to her relaxed an unknown fear Sarah had always had; what if he Mom was the sort of Mom that didn't give a care in the world for her child? Wouldn't she smell bad, like Boogey said bad people smelt? So the strawberry was a welcome smell, easing away the last of her doubts she had never allowed herself to acknowledge.

"Baby, oh my sweet Sarah," Linda said, sounding utterly heartbroken and looking it as well. "What on Earth can I do? I cannot imagine...the horror...oh sweetheart!" Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she scrubbed at her face furiously. "I'm not helping," Linda muttered to herself. "I'm here, sweetheart. Whatever you need, I'll do it, or see its done."

Sarah smiled a bit, taking one of Karen's Kleenex and wiping her Mom's face gently. "Just seeing you is...amazing."

Linda smiled a bit, looking abashed. "You will be seeing more of me." She took a deep breath, looked Sarah in the eye. "This has brought so much into focus for me. I got your letter yesterday – getting flights out of Russia is a nightmare! - and was on the plane as soon as possible. I had this dream on the way here – I always sleep on planes, you know – that you were hurting and no one saw it. I saw it clearly. Sweetheart, I've made a decision."

"A decision?" Sarah asked, somewhat bewildered by her mother...as usual.

"I'm going to stop this foolishness. I'm not old," she said defensively. "But I'm too old to act anymore. I'm no Vanessa Redgrave. I want to be near you, honey." She took Sarah's hand, squeezing it. "I'm going to see if I can pick up a job here locally. I'm staying close to you from now on."

Sarah's eyes widened. Her Mom...living nearby. Her Mom being part of her life. Her stomach clenched, her heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out over her body. "Mom this is..."

"I know, I know." She waved her free hand, sighed. "I'm impulsive. I know you think I'm just being impulsive now. I'm not. This is what I want. I want to be your Mom...even if it is a bit late." She met Sarah's eyes, her own so very vulnerable. "Do you think I could be? Your Mom again? Not just Linda Kline, actress? But Linda Kline, Sarah Williams' mother?"

Sarah's mouth was dry. Her mom sounded sincere. She smelt sincere. But Sarah was afraid. Her Mom was so...flighty. Good intentioned, but flighty. "I...of course," she said, deciding at once. She would at least let Linda try to be a Mom. It wasn't like it would hurt her more. Nothing could do that.

Linda's face lit up. She was still crying, still heartbroken for her child, but now she had something she could do. Linda was always a do-er.

"Okay. We'll deal with all that later. Sweetheart, what do you need me to do for you?"

Sarah's throat tightened. She gripped her mom's hand tighter, bit her lip. "Just...hold me, Mama?"

Linda pulled her close, tucking Sarah's head under her chin. "That I can do baby."

* * *

><p>Sarah awoke the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking. Or burning. She sniffed deeply. Yup, burning. She sighed, smiled a bit at the irony of her kitchen-unfriendly mother trying to cook, then went to assist.<p>

Linda looked...overwhelmed. She was stand there, flipping some scrambled eggs (or trying to), poking at them with the spatula like they were going to attack her. There was some half cooked bacon, several pieces of burnt toast, and perfectly poured orange juice. She could pour drinks with the best of them. Cook...not so much.

"Morning sweetie!" she said, smiling brightly. She held up the pan with the eggs proudly. "I cooked us some breakfast!"

"Wow," Sarah said, smiling best she could. She sat down, watching her mom clumsily try to make plates of food. The eggs were a bit runny and running under the toast. The bacon was limp on one end, cremated on the other. The love in the food made it edible though, and seeing her Mom's proud face, she wouldn't complain. She ate every bite with a healthy gulp of O.J. to kill some of the funkiness, smiling between each bite.

"So what to do today?" Linda asked as they finished up. "Do you have school?"

Sarah shook her head, swallowing the last bite of burnt toast. "Not til Tuesday. Today's Sunday."

"Right. No school on Sundays," Linda said, looking sheepish. "Keep think its Monday. My brain's all boggled from the flight, I guess."

Sarah smiled into her O.J. Her Mom's brain was always boggled, flight or not.

"I saw that," Linda grumbled good naturally, smiling. "We should probably call your Dad and let him know I'm here. Don't want them to come home and just – Ta-DA! Here's Linda!"

Sarah dialed the number for Grandma Louise's that hung next to the old kitchen phone. It rang three times, before Karen's familiar voice answered.

"Hey Karen, it's Sarah."

"Honey, are you okay?" Karen asked, sounding panicked. It seemed lately that panicked was Karen's normal state.

"I'm fine. I just needed to call and tell you and Dad something. Mom's here. She got my letter and flew into town."

Karen was silent a moment, then to Sarah's surprise, she replied with clear relief in her voice; "Oh thank goodness. Honey!" she called, her voice away from the phone. "Linda's in town with Sarah. She isn't alone."

Sarah felt touched, amazed even at Karen's concern. She had always hated Linda, been intimidated by her. "Karen, I..." Sarah wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm just glad you aren't alone, sweetheart," Karen said, sounding so sincerely relieved. "I've been worried sick about you being by yourself. I know you're strong, but sweetie, you know you don't always have to be strong for your Dad and I. I...I wish you would let us – let _me_ know what we can do for you. I love you."

Sarah's throat closed once again. The emotions of the past few days, few months were catching up so quickly. "I love you," she managed, biting her lip. "Karen you're an awesome step-Mom."

Karen's breath caught audibly. She laughed a bit, brittle. "Sarah. Oh Sarah. I can't wait to come home and give you a hug. Tell Linda thank you for coming. We'll be glad to see her."

They spoke a few more words, mostly nonsense about this and that, before hanging up. Sarah hung up the receiver with a sense of family and well being. Linda came and gave her a hug and encouraging smile.

Sarah smiled back, when something caught her eye. It was one of Toby's drawings, hanging on the fridge. Her smile slipped. She had her Mom, her Dad, her Step-Mom. But the hole in her heart grew bigger all of a sudden, looking at the sunny drawing of a clover field Toby had seen on a school field trip. She let go of her Mom, went over to the drawing. Karen hadn't been able to put it away. She touched the corner of it, where Toby had proudly autographed it.

"Would it help if you told me about him?" Linda asked quietly, joining Sarah to look at the drawing. "I wish I had come around to meet him."

"You would have loved him. Jack too," Sarah said, her voice tight. "Toby had the best imagination. He wanted to be an actor, you know."

Linda made a small, sad sound in the back of her throat. "Oh my," she said quietly, choked.

"He had the most amazing ideas. Come see his room?"

"Of course," Linda said, taking Sarah's hand. They went upstairs, pausing at Toby's door. Sarah opened it slowly, overwhelmed once again by the beautiful smell of her brother, now heightened by her senses.

Linda went from drawing to drawing hanging on the walls. She picked up his books with reverence, straightened a few of his toys with care. She picked up a photo on his bedside table, her eyes filled with tears. It was Sarah, dressed in her silver Princess outfit, with five year old Toby dressed as a Knight beside her, holding his toy sword proudly as if protecting her.

"What a beautiful boy he was," Linda said, her voice thick. "He looks so much like your father did at that age. Oh my goodness. What I missed out on..."

Sarah sat down on Toby's bed, stirring up the scent of him. It was so pleasant, yet there was an undertone of smelly socks. Sarah rolled her eyes. All boys must have the smelly sock undertone, she decided, smiling a bit. Or perhaps Toby had been hoarding old socks under his bed...nothing would surprise her.

Linda sat down beside her, gingerly picking up Lancelot, hugging him to her. "I gave you this bear," Linda said fondly, looking down at the toy.

"Toby loves it," Sarah said, aware of the present tense the moment she used it. "He always snuck in my room when he was a toddler and stole it. I gave it to him. He loved Lancelot more than me by then." She touched the old bear, her heart stinging at the sight of it. "He slept with it every night. He would tell Lancelot stories about Goblins and Kings when he was scared. I used to walk in on him telling Lancelot stories all the time, to keep the monster in the closet at bay. He said stories about Goblins scared the monster."

"Goblins, Kings, and Monsters," Linda said, her voice faraway. "He did have a good imagination."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Sarah sighed, hugging herself. "One of the men raped him, you know." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sarah wished she could take them back. To speak of Toby's death in this room was almost...sacrilegious. Linda's face had gone sheet white. Her eyes were wide, red lips parted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that. Not here."

Linda shook her head, looking again to the picture. "How...how could someone..."

"They're the monsters," Sarah said with conviction, her voice almost a snarl. She bared her teeth on instinct, feeling the poison glands swelling and pulse. She pulled her lips down with some effort, almost frightened of the animal intensity of the feeling.

"Yes," Linda agreed, looking down at the bear. "Monsters."

They sat in silence, Linda taking Sarah's hand. The sunlight fell in through the window, warming Sarah's socked feet. Here in Toby's room, the world and time stood still.

* * *

><p>"You look very much like her," Jareth said as soon as Sarah closed her bedroom door. She'd come up to change out of her pj's into some jeans and a tee shirt. She started, rolling her eyes at him a bit. He was sitting on her bed, quiet and calm, having been waiting for her for however long.<p>

"Whatever happened with your runner?" she asked, going into her closet and rummaging around. Having the Goblin King in her room was becoming a routine.

"She lost," he said, sounding bored. "She wasn't nearly as imaginative or brave as you."

"What happened to the baby?" Sarah asked, sticking her head out of the closet door as she pulled a tee over her head.

Jareth smiled a bit. "Do you really believe I turn children into Goblins, Sarah?"

"I've wondered about that," she admitted, throwing her bottoms into the laundry basket at the back of her closet. She pulled one leg of her jeans up, then the other. "I didn't think you would, not once I really gave it some time to think on."

"I don't," he assured her, his voice suddenly roaming as if he were moving around her room. "I give the child to someone else. Someone who won't wish them away. Sometimes to human couples who suddenly have memories of going through an adoption process. Sometimes to fay couples who are unable to conceive."

"Is that what you are? Fay?" she asked, coming out of her closet. He was at her vanity, holding up her little music box. He was smiling fondly at the little frill covered figure. He sat it down gently, smiled at her.

"Indeed I am, my dear. What else would someone handsome as me be?"

Sarah smiled, shaking her head. She grabbed a scrunchie from the vanity, pulling her hair up. Jareth was behind her, watching her movements with apparent interest.

"Sarah?" came her mother's muffled voice from the other side of her door. Jareth smiled at her, went striding into her closet, and disappeared.

"Yes?" she called back. "You can come in."

Linda opened the door, looking curiously around her room. "Thought I heard you talking to someone."

"Myself," Sarah replied naturally, shrugging. "Got that from you."

Linda smiled sheepishly, walking into the room. She looked at the large shadowbox on the wall, where once Sarah's toys had been held. Now it was full of pretty nicknacks, notebooks, and photos. "Oh my," she said, reaching up and taking down one of the photos of Sarah and Jack. "Was this your young man?"

Sarah looked at the photo, swallowing hard. She walked over, put her arm around her mom. "Yeah. That's my Jack."

"He was beautiful," Linda said softly, getting teary-eyed again.

Sarah nodded, staring at the photo. It was the day Jack asked her to marry him. They were out on the coast on a summer day the year before, out with their friend Kathleen and her boyfriend, Kevin. After a picnic, a bit of fishing, and some wine, Jack had slipped something in Sarah's hand. It had been a box, with a delicate diamond ring in it. She had never been happier, never felt more right.

Sarah looked down at her hand, where Jack's ring should have been. It was hiding in her jewelry box, buried below bracelets, necklaces, and other nicknack jewelry she never wore.

Sarah smiled a bit, took the photo, and put it back where it belonged. "He was very beautiful, inside and out."

"Sweetheart...do you want to talk about it?" Linda asked, looking at Sarah with concern.

"Not now," Sarah replied, setting her shoulders back. "I can't face it right now."

Linda nodded, hugging Sarah's arm. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sarah replied.


	10. Club and Ax

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Ten: Club and Ax

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Linda had night terrors for as long as she could remember. Sarah waited until her mother took her sedative that night before she called for Eldore.

He appeared, as his friends had thus far, from the shadows. He seemed to bleed out of the dark corner in her room, his jewel green eyes the first thing she saw of him. The rest of him just seemed to fill in around his eyes. He stepped out of the corner, dragging his ax behind him.

"'Lo, m'Lady," Eldore grumbled, looking around her room. "Thought you'd come to the Labyrinth to get me."

"My mom's asleep and won't wake up for awhile. My family is gone," Sarah explained, her hands in her lap. "It's safe here. Besides, I want to share something with you."

"With me, m'Lady?" Eldore replied, looking curiously at her.

She rose from her bed, motioning to the door. He followed behind her, his ax quiet on the carpet. Sarah opened Toby's door, led him inside.

Eldore looked around, his nostrils flared. "Damn shame," Eldore groused. "Damn shame. We'll kill 'em all, m'Lady. I'll take care o' Mack, you take care o' Travis." He grinned up at her, the deep, dirty earth smell from him drifting to her. Sarah smiled back at him, revealing her fangs a bit. He looked appreciatively at her, giving her a nod. "You'll be more o' us than human 'afore this business is done, m'Lady," he joked.

"Seems that way," she agreed.

"Lets be off, then," Eldore said, lifting his hand for her to take.

The world blinked once, twice, and finally a third time. It wasn't like traveling with Jareth, where things went black and glittery. It was more like flashes between her room and an overcrowded club., before at last ending in that goth club. Sarah looked around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of it. The people were frozen in dance, their arms out, heads tossed back. The beer sign above the bar was half lit. The band up on the grimy stage was stuck mid play, the drummer's nasty black hair thrown up around his face. The guitarist was kneeling on stage, his fingers posed over the strings. Sarah looked curiously from face to face, noticing the black clothes, the spikes, the tattoos.

"Hmn," she muttered. Eldore stood beside her, scowling in disgust at the dancers.

"Nasty place, this," he grumbled. "Smells like a heap."

Sarah nodded, the smell stronger to her left.

"Yeah," Eldore said when she turned her head in that direction. "Mack'll be o'er there. Let's go say 'ello."

The weaved in and out between the bodies, Sarah occasionally bumping into them. They felt like stone; hard and cold to her touch. She experimentally touched the hair of a dancing girl. It did not move, caught half up around her face, half down on her shoulders. She appeared to be in mid head bang. Eldore stopped at last, pointing with the head of his ax at one of the dancers.

He was caught grinding himself against a nasty woman with red hair and very little clothes. He was pale, albino. Stocky, with close cropped hair. He was short, and very familiar to her. She looked at his face, caught in some mad glee.

"This ol' boy is Mack," Eldore said. "Should we kill 'em this way, or wake 'em up?"

"Wake him," Sarah said at once. "I want him to know what's happening to him."

"Glad you said so, m'Lady," Eldore grinned, poking the ugly man with the blunt of his ax. "Let's head this way," he said, motioning into the crowd. "It'll take this big ol' lump a moment to wake up."

The weaved in and out of people, stopping just short of the stage. They could see him perfectly there. It looked like he was moving in slow motion, his arms slowly; so slowly lowered. His left leg shifted, his head nodded forward. Every movement became slightly faster, slightly more real. He craned his neck, taking a deep breath that seemed to last forever.

"FUCK!" he suddenly yelled as if still yelling over the band, shaking his head drunkenly. He stumbled away from the woman, fully awake and aware now. He was blinking rapidly, rubbing at his eyes as he nearly fell over one of the caught dancers. "What the hell is this?" he said, his normal voice loud and echoing in the stopped club.

"Hello, Mack," Sarah said, her own voice echoing. She remained totally still, seeming herself like one of the dancers.

"Whose there? What is this?" Mack snarled, looking around quickly. He was breathing hard, his flight or fight response raising. Even from where she stood, she could smell his disgusting scent; tinged with sweat and pheromones.

His back was to her. Sarah moved quickly to the other end of the stage. Eldore was away from her, weaving ever closer to confused ol' Mack.

"Over here," Sarah called, disappearing behind a rather large man with his head tossed back and arms wide open.

"Who are you? Quit fucking with me!" Mack was yelling, moving in between the dancers, knocking into them and nearly knocking himself over in the process. "What the hell is all this?"

"Mack, Mack, Mack," she called, darting in and out of the bodies. She was much faster than him, much more agile. He caught sight of her at last, his eyes focusing on where she had been a second before.

"I see you, girl!" he shouted, moving towards her. Sarah laughed, darted behind another group, disappearing from his view. "Tell me what the hell this is!"

"This is Hell," Eldore's voice boomed from somewhere to Mack's left. He was very close. Mack jumped, banging into the fat man Sarah had previously hidden behind.

The fat man suddenly seemed to come alive, his thick arms dropping down around Mack like a vice. Mack snarled, struggling, but the man's arms were like stone. Sarah watched Mack's face turning blue. "Eldore, let him go," she said.

Mack gasped, falling forward as the fat man's arms snapped back to their original position. "Why...are you...doing this?" Mack groaned, falling to his knees.

"Because you deserve it, mate," Eldore laughed, his voice booming from up towards the stage now. "Because murderous scum like you deserve pain and fear and stink."

"Fuck you man!" Mack yelled, gesturing wildly towards the stage, though it was clear he had no idea where Eldore was. "You don't know me! You don't know anything!"

"You are a murderer," Sarah said from beside him, his fat head snapping to look at her. She stood there, letting him see her now. "You better run, Mack."

"From you?" he snarled, moving slowly towards her, as if to intimate her. "I'd rather run into you, sweetheart," he snickered, coming ever closer. "You're a cute little thing. How about I bend you over this table, huh?"

Then he was screaming. Eldore's ax had come out from behind one of the frozen dancers, cutting a deep gash across Mack's calf, nearly to the bone. "No way to talk to a lady."

Mack fell, grasping his destroyed leg between his hands. He looked up into Eldore's green eyes, still screaming in terror.

"Want to die yet?" Eldore asked, his ax resting comfortably on his shoulder, Mack's blood dripping down the blade.

"F-Fuck you," Mack groaned, rocking back and forth as he held his leg.

"I told you to run," Sarah said, tilting her head a bit. Eldore smiled, his black teeth glistening in the neon lights above. He moved slowly back into the dancers, fading into the darkness. "Run Mack, if you can."

He glared at her, his eyes filled with pained tears. He dragged himself to his feet, panting and moaning as he turned into the mass of people and tried to run away, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"Gotcha!" Eldore cackled, hitting Mack in the back with the handle of his ax. Mack stumbled, falling into the form of a girl, who suddenly sprung into animation. She grabbed mindlessly unto Mack's shirt, capturing him. He cried out, tugging frantically on his shirt.

"Let go, you whore!" he screamed, hitting the girl in the face. He screamed, pulling his hand from her face, his knuckles bloody and broken, as though he'd hit a solid stone wall.

Eldore was behind him now, watching him scream. Sarah stood by, her expression cold, eyes alert. "Only a spineless cow hits a woman," Eldore groused, his ax raised above his head.

Mack turned, his eyes wide, mouth agape. The ax came down on his skull, splitting his head in two. He twitched, his body almost dancing under the ax. Sarah was reminded of a fish dangling from a line.

Eldore grunted, yanking his ax hard. More of Mack's face split as the blade came free, brains and gore splattering everything around him. Sarah felt part of Mack fling against her cheek. She wiped it away casually, watching him sink to the floor.

"Right then," Eldore said, lifting his ax again. He brought it down on Mack's midsection, effectively halving him. "That'll do." He cleaned the ax on Mack's jeans, sniffed at the corpse, and turned to Sarah. "I haven't got special powers to give you, m'Lady," he said, taking a cloth from his pocket. He wiped the blade again, making sure he'd removed all traces of Mack. "I do, however, have this for ya." He turned the ax in his hand, pointing the handle towards her.

"I couldn't take you ax, Eldore. It's part of who you are," Sarah replied, looking into his eyes.

"Nonsense," Eldore snorted. "I got a ton back in me mountain. Take it, m'Lady. It'd please me a might bit if you used it when you kill yours."

Sarah smiled a bit, taking the ax from her dwarf friend. All at once, the club came to life. People were screaming, shrieking in horror at Mack's mutilated body on the ground.

Eldore winked, grabbed Sarah's hand, and in three blinks, the club disappeared into the familiar scene of the Dark Labyrinth.

Eldore let go her hand, hobbling off towards an entrance in the stone wall. "Jareth's on his way. I got to get off to me mountain. You'll be safe here. Don't wander," he warned, his green eyes flashing in the low light. "There are things in the Dark Labyrinth that'd eat your heart afore you knew you were dead."

Sarah gulped a bit, gripping Eldore's ax closer to her. She watched her companion amble away, her stomach in knots. Minutes passed. It felt like hours, listening for the creeping sounds of monsters and ghouls. Sarah bit her lip, backing up against the fountain.

Part of her was scared of the Dark Labyrinth, part of her was almost at home here. She hadn't seen much of it, but what she had seen felt right to her. She touched the stone of the fountain, surprised at the warmth of it. It felt alive under her fingers, and she startled a bit when it shifted, like an animal moving its weight.

"Sarah."

She looked up, the ax hard against her chest. Boogey was there, sitting in the entrance where Eldore had been. He grinned at her, came creeping towards her. His tongue lulled out, licked her fingers. "Hello, Boogey," she greeted, glad to see her friend.

"Jareth late. Stupid runner, stupid baby," he said, still smiling. "Boogey's here, keep you happy, pretty Sarah."

"Thank you, Boogey," she replied, her fingers trailing over the fountain edge again. It shifted towards her touch, like a cat getting a back scratch.

"Dark Labyrinth likes Sarah," Boogey observed, looking around with his eyeless face. "It glows for Sarah."

She looked around, not sure what he was talking about. It looked as it always did her; dark and somewhat foreboding. Her eyes widened when she noticed a little centipede looking creature crawling across the top of the wall. It stopped to look at her, before scurrying on.

"Life grows here," Boogey said proudly.

She looked back to him, jumping a bit to find Boogey standing straight, his face inches from her own. His breath was awful, as was the smell of his skin. He smelt evil, like the men they had killed.

"Sarah," he said, leaning closer and closer, sniffing her as he drew near.

"Boogey!"

He stopped, looking over his shoulder. He looked back at Sarah, grinning like usual. "Jareth's here," he announced, dropping to all fours and scurrying over to him; like an overgrown lap dog.

"Hello Sarah," Jareth greeted, glancing briefly from Boogey to her. He looked back to Boogey almost immediately. "Thank you for keeping Sarah safe. Go now, Boogey. There is someone for you to Fetch Aboveground."

Boogey laughed; it was a wheezing, fearful sound. He took off, running into the hole and out of sight in seconds.

"You're trembling," Jareth said, walking to her. He took her hands, pressed them to his chest. He embraced her gently.

"Something is...wrong about Boogey," she said, her forehead pressed into his collarbone.

"Boogey is a Fetcher, Sarah. He may be your friend, but never turn your back on him. Arach and Eldore are the same. Only the most foul of creatures can become a Fetcher." He sighed, holding her a bit tighter. "I'm sorry, I thought you understood."

"Are they just...pure evil?"

"No," he replied quickly. "Nothing is pure evil, Sarah. They genuinely like you. They genuinely care. But they can kill without guilt, without a second thought. They do not have a conscience the way you do."

"And you?" she asked, looking up to see his face. "Do you have a conscience?"

He looked her in the eye, his expression troubled. "I don't think I do," he replied quietly. "Not like you. I ache for the loss of your brother and fiance. I do not regret helping you kill those men."

She was sure then, looking into his mismatched eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings for her in them, that he loved her. The motive she had been wondering about, the troubling sense that he desired something more from her; all of it made sense in that one moment. She had suspected; part of her had known since her run through the Labyrinth; but seeing it sent her tattered heart to pieces.

She looked away, leaned her forehead on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her gently, his cheek resting atop her head. He sighed, and she sighed with him.

"You were seen, Sarah," he said quietly, his arms tightening as she stiffened. "Both of you were seen."

"What will we do?" she asked.

"There is nothing to do. The club was states away from you, my dear," he said soothingly. "They will not find you."

"States away?" she asked, looking up at him at last.

"Yes. Only Travis lives in your home state of New Hampshire," he explained, moving so that only one arm remained around her. They began to wonder towards the opening in the nearby hedge. "You killed Eli in Iowa, Carl in Maine, and Mack in New York."

"Why were they all in my town then?" she asked, jumping slightly as a creature that looked very much like an eel the size of a house cat came swimming through the air beside them. It dipped its head in acknowledgment to Jareth, then her, and continued on its way.

"Travis lives in your town, Sarah," he said, ducking them through an archway made of black vines that seemed to reach down and playing with the ends of her hair. "The other monsters came to visit him. They were high school friends, you see. They all grew up mere blocks away from you."

Sarah nodded vaguely, her mind stuck on the knowledge that Travis lived that close by. She could have passed him on the street and never known him. Her stomach knotted, her hands shook, her palms sweated. He could live down the street from her and she never would have known.

Jareth stopped. Sarah looked up, surprised to see the door leading out of the Dark Labyrinth. She supposed that with Jareth beside her, the more malevolent creatures that roamed the maze had kept their distance.

She looked to him, found him watching her.

"When you go to kill Travis," Jareth began, his voice a warning, "we must be more discrete. Eldore has a flare for the dramatic and your being seen was his doing. I will make sure you are safe."

She nodded, catching his eye for a brief second. She sighed, bit her lip. "I guess I should go home. Mom's probably awake by now."

Jareth smiled, his eyes crinkling with mischief. "Not at all, sweetling. It's only been fifteen minutes in your world."

Her eyes widened, then she smiled back. "Reordering time for me again, Jareth?"

"But of course," he said, ushering her through the door. "This way you can go home, get some rest, and have a solid alibi just in case someone does manage to identify you."

He took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and within a blink Sarah was back in her room, standing alone before her mirror, staring at her own gore covered reflection.

"I would burn those clothes, my dear," Jareth's disembodied voice advised.

Sarah grimaced and agreed.


	11. What You Want to Become

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Eleven: What You Want to Become

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Sarah stood before the old furnace in her basement, watching the clothes she had been wearing only moments before burning away. It was fall in New Hampshire, just chilly enough to run the heat for a little while. Linda was sedated, but even if she woke, it wouldn't seem odd. Sarah had changed into an old tee shirt and pair of gray sweats, her old bunny house shoes on her feet. The clothes in the furnace popped and occasionally let out the smell of burning meat. The smell faded almost immediately. Sarah watched them blacken and curl and wondered just what it was she was becoming.

She thought of Eldore's ax, sitting in the back of her closet. She had wiped the muck with her shirt, had rinsed it in the bathtub. She would have to look up proper weapon care.

Sarah looked down at her hand, wondered just when she had gone so numb. The clothes turned to ash and fell forgotten to the bottom of the furnace. She shut off the valve, the flame sputtered, and died away. Sarah walked slowly up the stair, her brow furrowed, lips scowling.

She didn't know who she was anymore. The thought of killing Travis did nothing to her. It brought her satisfaction, brought her a sense of peace. The Sarah of four months ago would never have imagined killing a person. She had participated in three murders so far, about to commit a four herself.

She felt nothing. She felt no fear, no stab of conscience, no remorse. Sarah caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror as she went to the stairs. She looked like same old Sarah, if not a little tired. She curled her lip, saw her fangs, and suddenly she didn't look a thing like the old Sarah. Her eyes looked darker; almost black, her skin looked papery thin and gray Her hair looked limp, her frame looked thinner. In short, Sarah looked like a monster. Her lip dropped and she was normal again. She curled and the monster was back.

She was in awe of herself. Horrible, terrible awe.

"What am I?" she whispered, stepping back from the mirror. She ran up the stairs, passed the guest room where her mother slept, unaware of her daughter's transformation.

She opened the door, stumbled inside, and was confronted by the quiet, abandoned room where her brother once lived. She gasped, slammed her back against the door. It smelt so beautiful in here, so pure. Sarah's stomach lurched, the memory of Toby raped and torn apart flashing picture bright in her eyes. She fell to her knees, grabbed the little Transformers trash can near the door, and vomited.

Sarah sobbed, hugging the trash can to her, her shoulders shaking. Toby was laughing, he was smiling, he was perfect, holding her hand, telling her how much he loved her, how much he would always be there for her.

_"I love you Sarah. You're the best big sister ever."_

Sarah wailed, her fangs extending almost a full inch into her mouth. Venom dropped onto her tongue, tingling it, but not poisoning her. She looked at her hand, found them thin, with taloned nails just like Boogeys.

"I'm a monster Toby," she gasped.

"Sarah."

Her head jerked up, her fangs at the ready. Jareth was before her, looking down at her with pity. Anger built up in her. She launched forward, knocking the trash can from her lap. Her hands through up to his throat. He caught her wrists, yanked her to him, and hugged her close.

"Sarah, calm down."

She screamed, her fangs disappearing into her gums. Jareth slipped her arms around his neck, his arms settling around her waist. Sarah buried her face in his neck, her breath shuddering as she clutched at him.

"It takes a monster to kill a monster, Sarah," Jareth whispered in her hair. "You know that."

She nodded stiffly, staring passed his neck to Toby's bed. Her brother should be sleeping in that bed. He should be happy and healthy and not rotting in a grave. She said as much and Jareth agreed.

"But he isn't pet. He's gone and all we can do, you and I, is avenge him. One more left, sweetling, just one more left."

Sarah looked up at him, the sudden fear of what she had become nearly overwhelming. "What then Jareth? I don't just go back to normal, do I? I'm always going to be this. A monster that kills monsters."

He nodded distractedly. "No, there will be no more normal for you. You are more one of us then human now, Sarah."

The echoing of Eldore's words sent a shudder through her. "When do we kill Travis?" she asked, her voice hollow.

"Soon," Jareth replied, rubbing her back. "Rest a few days. Come to terms with what you are. We will kill Travis when you are ready."

Sarah nodded, letting go of him. Jareth stood and offered her his hand. She took it, stood beside him, and breathed deep of Toby's room; tainted by the smell of her vomit. She walked mechanically to the trash can and headed for the bathroom, Jareth right behind her.

"I'm sorry," she said as she rinsed the can in the bathtub. "You keep having to come calm me down."

"Don't be sorry, Sarah," Jareth replied, leaning against the sink. "You're worth the trouble." He smiled when she looked over her shoulder at him, his eyes twinkling. "It gives me an excuse to see you."

Sarah sighed, chuckling a bit as the whole horror of the moment finally slipped away. She knew she was a monster, she knew she would change before the deaths had begun. She felt the peace of why she was doing this, why she had become this, slipping back in. She knew this had to happen. She knew what she was to give up to accomplish revenge for Toby and Jack.

She dried the trash can with a hand towel, Jareth's silent presence a comfort to her. She returned the can to the place it had always been, took a long look into Toby's room, and shut the door. Jareth took her hand, and they returned to her room.

He lay with her until she fell asleep, and quite possibly long after. She had dreams of warm hands rubbing her back, impressions of gentle kisses on her cheeks. She had vague memories of a quiet voice singing softly to her, the feeling of love and protection she had been without since Jack's death.

Sarah dreamt of the ballroom, swinging and swaying in Jareth's arms. As the World Falls Down, he sang, his expression haunting and needing and painfully beautiful.

Sarah woke with the sun the next morning. Jareth was gone, the spot where he lay cold to her touch. Sarah felt confused when it came to Jareth. She didn't feel like she was betraying Jack; she didn't love Jareth. She didn't know what she felt. She did feel something though. Something special, something dark.

Sarah sighed and got out of bed, slipping into her comfy bunny slippers. She went downstairs and turned on some Saturday morning cartoons. She sat down on the comfy chair cornered from the couch (the couch still smelt awful to her, despite days of spraying, vacuuming, and just plain fighting with it) made a bowl of cereal, some toast, and had a glass of milk. She was aware of the empty spot beside her, where Toby should have been. She was aware that she was in her parents home, when she should have been at home with Jack. She was aware that they were gone and it was coming to the time when all their murderers would be dead.

Sarah sighed and for the moment put her destiny from her mind. She had Linda moving around a couple of hours later and went about making her Mom breakfast.

She was frying up some eggs when Linda came shuffling into the kitchen. She looked awful, to be honest. Her hair was matted and sweaty, her eyes puffy, and mouth turned down.

"Sarah..." she began, her brow furrowed.

"Yes?" she prompted, looking up at her rough looking mom.

"I had...dreams," Linda said, hopping up onto stools at the kitchen bar. She set her chin in her hands, tapping her fingers on her cheek. "I dreamt you were screaming and a man was trying to comfort you. You were throwing up in Toby's trash can."

It took all her control not to stiffen. Her mother must have woken up, and in her drugged stupor, seen Jareth. Sarah shrugged, smiled slightly. "It was just a dream Mom. I had a nightmare and did scream," she said. "I bet you heard it and it influenced your dream."

Linda was looking critically at her still, but at last shrugged and gave the same slight smile back to Sarah. "I guess that's it. I'm sorry you had a nightmare sweetheart."

"It's okay," Sarah said, "it happens."

Sarah made Linda a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. Linda bemoaned the fact her daughter could cook better than her. They stayed in their pj's all day, sat around like a couple of lumps on a log, and just generally did nothing.

They watched some tapes, watched some TV, even played a bit of Scrabble (her Mom was the Scrabble queen and totally whomped her). Sarah felt relaxed and for the first time since the World Fell Down, felt like a normal human being.

The following day was the same. Sarah got a call from Karen, telling her that Grandma Louise was doing much better and wouldn't have to be hospitalized after all. They were going to stick around a couple of more days just to be sure, but would be back in town by Thursday at the very latest.

Linda helped Sarah with getting the house completely back in order. They went through bills ("Your father was always better at money than I, but even I know that the interest rate on that new car they got is way too high!"), went through some of Sarah's old things to donate, even repainted the back fence (something her Dad had been putting off). The normality was a wonder, and Sarah enjoyed it until Tuesday.

Monday evening, Linda took her pills, gave Sarah a big hug and kiss, and went off to bed. Sarah picked her clothes carefully. Jeans tight enough that Travis wouldn't be able to clutch at them but loose enough to give her free movement. A form fitting tank top that gave her ample room to swing her ax. Run down tennis shoes with good traction so she could avoid slipping in blood. She tied her hair back in a bun (no ponytail; that could be used against her), took off any jewelry she had, retrieved the ax from her closet, and called for Jareth.

He came from the shadows. He was wearing the white outfit he had worn when she faced him at the end of the Labyrinth. His hair and eyes seemed wilder than she had ever seen, his hand holding out the familiar crystal to her.

"Sarah," he began, his voice husky, "once more, only this once more, I offer you your dreams. Are you sure this is what you want to become?"

She reached up, took his wrist gently, and lowered it. The crystal fell from his fingertips, rolling away from them and under her vanity. The little music box began to play, its melody haunting and familiar. Sarah met his eyes, stepped close enough to feel the heat of his body.

"I've already become it, Jareth," she said, watching his eyes close at the sound of his name. "I'm ready."

Jareth lifted his arms around her, the white gauze of his clothing gently brushing against her. She wrapped her arms around him, her face buried in his neck. The world was falling down around them, and she was at peace.

When she opened her eyes, Jareth was different. He no longer wore the white outfit, but now wore the same attire he'd worn in the Escher Room. He looked so much the same, completely untouched by time. He stood before her, his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable. They were in an old bedroom, devoid of furniture, it's wallpaper peeling and browning. The house was quiet, the windows sealed and so dirty Sarah couldn't see out them. The house was abandoned, and from the lack of sounds outside, somewhere far away from civilization.

"Bring him here," she commanded.

Jareth's arm came from behind him, juggling a set of four crystals; three on the bottom, one on top. The bottom three showed scenes of the others; of Eli dying in the cornfield, of Carl screaming soundlessly in the hospital; of Mack twitching on the end of the ax now in Sarah's grasp. Her heart was racing, staring into the fourth crystal, which showed Travis sitting in a recliner, watching TV.

He looked as normal and bland as her memories. He was sipping on a beer, his expression one of disinterest. He looked up from the screen and spoke to someone outside of the crystal's view, sneering as he took another gulp.

Sarah licked her lips and met Jareth's eyes. "Bring him," she repeated.

Jareth looked at her a moment longer, and let all the crystals fall. Eli's broke, then Carl's, then Mack's, and finally Travis'. Smoke rose from the pieces, and Jareth vanished.

From the glass shards and the eerie smoke that rose from them, a figure appeared. It was writhing, swirling up from the shattered pieces, taking form slowly; first a shadow, then a mass. The mass shaped and reshaped and in a heartbeat was the confused figure of Travis, his back to Sarah and Jareth, looking around the abandoned house that would be his grave.

He turned, seeing her. He threw himself against the nearest wall, as far from them as he could get. He looked like a deer in headlights, his chest heaving, eyes wide. "Who are you? Why are we here?"

The voice from her memories. The slight drawl and deep hatred in it. Her lips curled automatically, her fangs extending to the fullest. She could feel her muscles tense, felt suddenly faster; stronger. "Bastard," she hissed, her voice sounding as foreign as her body felt.

Travis' eyes widened, taking in her transformation. "What...are you?" he growled, looking desperately for an escape.

"Murderer," she said, stepping closer to him, her hands tightening around the ax. "Rapist."

Travis' eyes widened, his tongue flickering over his lips. He looked calm suddenly, tilted his head. "You're Sarah, aren't you?" he asked arrogantly, relaxing.

Sarah froze, her head cocked.

"The kid kept screaming for you," Travis taunted, inching across the wall towards the door. "Save me Sarah!" He snorted. "What are you? A little girl with an ax and some fancy fake teeth and make up. How did you find me? How did you bring me here?" he demanded.

She said nothing, her blood boiling. He talked of Toby with such ease. How dare he? How dare he question her?

She crouched ever so slightly, ready to spring. Travis read her movement and lunged at the door, managing to get through it. Sarah was on his heels, faster than him, the blunt of her ax catching him in the back midway down the rotten stairs. Travis tumbled to the bottom, screaming as he went. Sarah stopped on the stair, peered down at him.

The fury stopped in her, watching him struggle to lift his upper half from the floor. His left arm was clearly broken, probably some ribs as well. He was moaning, disoriented. He looked over his should blearily at her, his face suddenly panicked. She watched him struggle to his feet, watched him stumble to the front door. She knew it wouldn't open, had no reason to hurry as she slowly came down the stairs.

Travis gave up the door with a curse, brokenly staggering into the living room. Sarah followed, taking the last step with a small jump, smiling her fanged smile at his frightened face. He was trying to not look afraid. He was trying to be brave. To her it was all stupidity and bravado. His fear reeked off him, almost covering the nasty, somewhat familiar smell of old laundry that came from him.

She paused, breathed deep. The smell of old laundry; like gym socks soaked in vinegar, was almost recognizable. Like something in her house...the couch. She tilted her head, examined him closely. "Have you ever been to my house?" she asked menacingly. "Did you see Toby there? Is that why you and your friends killed him and Jack?"

Travis looked confused. He shook his head, his face pinched in disgust. "No. I'd never seen the kid before that day. I'd remember a sweet little thing like him." His face split into a smile that made her stomach churn. "Never seen him before. Wish I had. Would have liked to enjoy him longer. Beautiful boy."

The blood began boiling again. A veil of red fell over her vision, drenching him in blood colored monotone. Sarah lurched forward, screaming as she brought the ax down. Travis was quicker than he looked, quicker than his injuries should have let him be. He ducked under her ax, which was caught in the wall. His arms were around her suddenly, lifting her from the floor. Her hands slipped off the ax, her body slamming to the floor with Travis on top of her. His hand was on her throat, keeping her fangs away from him.

"They're real," he said with wonder, looking down into her open mouth. He met her eyes, his expression not one of horror but delight. "You're a real monster, aren't you girl?"

She struggled against him, her body stronger than before yet not strong enough to throw him off. The red was turning black at the edges as she bucked against him, trying to catch her breath. She could feel his erection pressing into her stomach, her taloned hands coming up and ripping at his side.

Travis howled, his free hand coming down and back handing her across her face. She was dazed by the pain, her vision swimming from it and the lack of oxygen.

"I don't," he growled brokenly, "normally do girls. But you...you're special. You turn me on."

Sarah snarled, bucked again, trying to throw him off. His body actually leapt, almost rolling off her. He regained his balance, though, and bore down on her harder.

"Jareth!" she gasped, taking the one breath the moment allowed her.

Gloved hands were on Travis' neck, pulling him off Sarah in a flash. Travis was thrown easily across the floor.

Sarah gasped, gulping air greedily. Jareth pulled her to her feet, taking her face into his hands to check her neck for injury. He gave her an annoyed glare, then turned towards the slowly recovering Travis.

Jareth strode passed Travis, who was now sitting up, shaking his head to clear it. Jareth easily pulled the ax from the wall, carefully handed it back to Sarah, and turned his attention on Travis.

He walked circles around Travis, smiling when the man looked up at him. "Who are you?" Travis growled, rubbing his own neck.

"No one of importance," Jareth said simply. "She's the one you need to watch out for."

Travis looked over at Sarah, who was breathing hard, watching him.

Travis snarled, rose shakily to his feet, and charged her, his arms opened to wrap around her.

Jareth leaned against the wall, next to the spot where Sarah's ax had been embedded moments before. Sarah met his eyes for a split second, watching Travis come at her with her peripheral vision. She brought the ax down the perfect instant, the blade slicing through his left arm, taking it clean off.

He screamed, his charge turning into a roll as he fell at her feet, blood squirting from the stump above where his elbow used to be. Blood splattered his face as he squirm, splattered her legs and stomach. Sarah watched him struggle and scream in pain and smiled down at him when he looked at her in horror.

"Raping children, killing them, killing innocent men that want to protect them," Sarah said, kneeling down beside him. He was clutching his stump, still screaming. "That's not okay, Travis."

He whimpered, unable to scream anymore. Sarah rose, her ax over her head. She held his gaze as she brought the blade down, slamming it into his right shoulder. Travis screamed again, blood shooting from the gash, his neck oozing blood and tissue all over the place. Sarah's face was covered in it, her hair matted with it. Her once white tank top was stained red through and through, and when she wrenched the ax out of his flesh, he bled some more.

He was dead before her third swing. She chopped off his left leg, then his right. She took off his remaining arm, his head, and split his torso from his lower half. She thought about chopping off his penis, but there was no point to it. A man without a lower half (or arms, legs, and a head) had no use for a flaccid, dead penis anyway.

All the while, Jareth stood by, watching her. Every now and again, a bit of Travis splashed up on him. He calmly wiped it off, and continued his watching.

When at last there were only insignificant pieces of Travis left, she stacked them in a neat little pile in the middle of the room. Jareth handed her a towel that he produced out of a crystal and she cleaned her face and the rest of her exposed skin of bit of Travis. She propped the ax against her leg, let her hair out of its restrictive bun, and let out a sigh of relief.

She waited, staring at Travis, for any remorse or sense of evil to overcome her. She merely felt accomplished and complete. She told Jareth as much, who simply nodded in agreement. She grabbed the trash bags she had brought along with her and began to bag up the little bits of Travis left. She bagged him all up and deposited him in the rusty garbage can outside the old house.

"Let's go to the Labyrinth," he suggested, taking her hand. "You need a shower." She picked up the ax, took a long, last look at the can full of Travis, and they were gone.

A/N: I dedicate this chapter to Anon. He PMed me from his official account to give me support. Thank you Anon and all my other amazing viewers.


	12. Lost Families

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Twelve: Lost Families

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Sarah stood amongst the leaves and flowers of her Underground shower, the pool of once crystal clean water now a dull, fading red. Blood washed down her face, caught up in her hair, down her shoulders, her thighs, her ankles. She used pleasing scents of fresh rain, of roses, lilacs. She washed away Travis and the feel of his death from her skin.

Jareth was in her bedroom, perched on the edge of her bed, waiting. She knew he was there, though he was silent. She didn't know what to do or say or feel, but the water was so wonderful and warm and just right.

She was shaking. She didn't regret killing Travis, didn't feel anything bad about it. Yet she was sure she was going into shock. Her teeth began to chatter despite the warm water, her knees knocked. When Jareth came and retrieved her, wrapping her in a huge, royal purple towel, she was not surprised or ashamed. He lifted her from the water, carried her to the bed, and held her in his lap as she shook and shivered.

"It's all right," he was saying, his voice distant; like the far away tinkling of music from another room. "It's done now, Sarah. No one else left to kill."

She sighed and moaned and leaned against him, not caring that the towel slipped and exposed her left breast. Jareth modestly tucked the towel under her arm. She clung to him, her whole body suddenly hurting. "You were just knocked around a bit, sweetling," he said, rubbing her back. "It's all right. You were in a terrific fight."

She nodded against him, grimacing as her back began to pull and ache. What she wouldn't give for some Ibuprofen right then. She sighed as he rubbed her lower back, mewled in pain when he hit a slowly forming bruise.

Jareth tucked her in bed, promised to return with some medicine, and fled out the door. Sarah watched him go, feeling feverish and painful.

Time seemed to go by very slowly without him. She watched a dust moot sail past on the slight draft from the nearby open window. The sweet smelling flowers above her bed swayed a bit, showering her in a light veil of delicious scented pollen. She snuggled deep under the covers, the chills finally starting to fade away.

Jareth may have been gone minutes or hours, she wasn't sure. But eventually he was at her side again, holding a glass of water and bottle of Ibuprofen

Sarah stared up at Jareth, the Ibuprofen slowly kicking in. She felt drowsy, exhausted. She drifted to sleep, his warm; bare hand brushing across her forehead.

She dreamed about Jack. She dreamed about the day she met him, on the University campus. He walked passed her, stopped, and watched her walk away. She felt his eyes on her, felt his eyes follow her into her class room. She remembered that the next day he ran into her in the same place. The day after that, and the day after that. He just kept cropping up everywhere she went, every day, til one day:

"Do you want something?" she asked, giving him an amused smile.

"Your number?" he suggested, grinning good naturedly at her. That had been the beginning of the great love of her life. She had laughed, told him to try again, and he did. Every day, for a month, he asked for her number. She finally gave it to him. She wished she had given it sooner.

She dreamt of sleeping in his arms, his face burrowed in her hair, his breath warm on her scalp. She remembered the gentleness of his embrace, the strength.

She dreamt and dreamt and dreamt until reality seemed like the dream. She remembered the day Jack asked her to marry him, the day they found the house they wanted to start their lives in. She remembered shopping for wedding dresses, trying so hard to find one in her budget; but that would take Jack's breath away.

The dress was gone now. She had asked Karen to get rid of it.

She awoke sometime later, her head in Jareth's lap, his back against the headboard of her bed. He was brushing the hair from her cheek, humming softly with his eyes closed and expression peaceful.

Sarah wondered, in that moment, what it was Jareth really thought of her. She sat up slowly, wiping cold tears from her face. He opened his eyes, looked carefully at her.

"I really love Jack," she said quietly, pulling herself up to sit next to him, the soft moss of the headboard cool against her bare shoulders. She looked down at herself, finding herself wearing a white, spaghetti strapped tank trimmed in lace, with white silk shorts. She wasn't sure when Jareth had dressed her, but it was better than a towel, or sheer nakedness.

"I know pet," Jareth said patiently, his gloved hand slowly, gently sliding atop her bare one.

"I miss him a lot," she admitted, looking at his profile. Jareth closed his eyes again, nodded slowly.

"Of course you do, pet."

"Do you love me, Jareth?" she asked suddenly, her voice a whisper. She opened her mouth to apologize the moment the words were spoken, but stopped. The pinched look that came over his face, the sharp, short nod took her breath away.

"For a very longtime now," he admitted, looking at her at last. His one blue eye, his one brown; with its forever dilated pupil, stared at her with a vulnerability she hadn't suspected he had. "I don't expect you to love me," he went on. "I am glad you know. I wouldn't have said if you hadn't asked."

Sarah nodded a bit, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "I can't...promise anything, Jareth," she said quietly. "I don't even know if I can love anymore. But if I can...if I can..." she trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say or how to say it.

Jareth's fingers tightened over the top of her hand. "I will wait til the World Falls Down, Sarah," he sighed, his shoulders sagging, a small smile on his lips. "Even if you never love me (which would be fine, pet) I shall forever be waiting for you."

Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm to her. She really didn't know if she could love, but if she was capable of loving someone after Jack, surely it would be Jareth.

Jareth returned her to her room a little before sunrise. Her mother was sleeping peacefully down the hall, the world was just starting to go grey with predawn light. Sarah watched the sun creeping over the rooftops of the houses across the street. She sat in the morning light, on the floor, with her bruised legs stretched out before her. She was fairly covered with marks, doomed to wear long pants and turtle necks til they faded, even in the house. Her face and hands were mostly untouched at least. She had the barest hint of a bruise that wrapped around her jaw, but a little powder would cover that nicely. She enjoyed the silky night clothes Jareth had given her for as long as she could before she slipped into her comfy, somewhat loose jeans and a light turtle neck. She went barefoot at least, and that did make her feel a bit better.

She made breakfast again, watched a bit of television, pulled on her shoes, left a note for Linda, and went out for a morning walk. It was a nice day; cool enough to warrant her turtle neck, but not too chilly as to need a jacket. She watched the fall leaves drift down from the trees, catching a few as they floated passed her.

Her feet took her to the graveyard that lay just a few blocks from her home. Her heart constricted, her stomach clenched. She wandered to Jack's grave, brushing leaves off it, wishing she had had the foresight to bring him and Toby some flowers. She sat down at the foot of his grave, twisting her fingers in the dying grass that covered him.

She didn't speak, but thought things for him. She was afraid to vocalize her thoughts, afraid someone would happen upon her as she spoke of murder and revenge. But she shared with him all the things she had done, the men she had killed for him and Toby. She shared with him of Jareth's help, about Boogey, Eldore, and Arach. She shared that she missed him, that she loved him still, and that she did not regret killing his murderers.

She remained with Jack about an hour, not speaking, simply remaining in the little bit of his presence left to her.

She felt, the majority of her time with him, that she was being watched. She glanced around from time to time, but the graveyard was deserted. It was early still; not quite eight in the morning yet. She never saw anyone, but the feeling remained, even as she bid her love farewell and went to see about her brother.

Toby was buried beneath an old oak tree, his gravestone an angel praying above him. It was much more opulent than Jack's simple towering stone, but Sarah's parents had more money than Jack's. She stared up into the sad angel's face and wondered what Toby would have thought of it.

Toby wasn't alone, however. Jareth was beside him, leaning against the angel topped stone, his shoulder brushing it as he sat humming in the shade. He was playing with the grass, much as Sarah had been. He was wearing Aboveground clothes, his wild hair tamed into a ponytail. He opened his mismatched eyes, smiled a bit at her, then closed them again.

"Do you visit my brother often?" she asked, sitting down opposite him, greeting Toby quietly, patting his grave gently with her hand.

"Yes," Jareth admitted freely. "Daily. He was to be my successor, you know."

Sarah nodded, running her fingers over the dried grass. "I always wondered if you really meant to make him Goblin Prince."

"Oh yes," Jareth replied, his eyes still closed as a ray of sunlight broke through the leaves, catching on his cheek. "I had no heir, you see. I did once."

Sarah remained silent, listening, watching the Goblin King's perfect face in repose. He spoke slowly, softly, from a long ago memory. It seemed he was speaking not only to her, but Toby as well. Perhaps he was.

"You're brother looked very much like my son," he said. "The same fair hair, same eyes. Isadora, my wife, had the most beautiful blue eyes. Like a summer sky. She was of the Summer Clan, of course."

"And you? What clan are you?" Sarah asked when he fell silent.

"Hmn? Oh, the Winter Clan. I had brown eyes, you see. All the folk of the Winter Clan have brown eyes. Spring has green, Summer blue, Autumn hazel, and Winter brown. You almost look like one of the Autumn Clan, Sarah. Dark hair, hazel eyes." He opened his eyes again and smiled at her. "Toby looked like a Summer Child to me. Just like my little Jareth.

"This was when there was only one Labyrinth, and we took only children. Isadora and I had been married many decades when she finally conceived. It is, as I have said before, rare for Fay to have children. We were overjoyed. Isadora was never more beautiful than when she was pregnant." Jareth uprooted a bit of grass, twirling a blade of it in his fingers. He watched it spin, watched it shift, then dropped it to the ground. "I was looking for someone to replace me. I was going to give up the Labyrinth to be a father. A runner, I decided. One with a good heart, a good grasp of what the Labyrinth could do. I searched for months and months and at last, just before Dora was due, I found one.

"I can't recall his name. He was a dark fellow, but very much loved the little sister he stupidly wished away. He had a bad turn of his leg that slowed him. He had no friends to assist him, but had he been stronger, he would have won. I would make him an offer; if he would remain and rule my Labyrinth, his sister would be returned Aboveground. We were nearing the twelfth hour when I got word that Dora had collapsed.

"She gave birth before I returned to her. She died giving me my son," Jareth said, his expression suddenly blank. "She was cold when I got there, the child in the arms of her nursemaid. He wasn't strong, my little Jareth. I held him the few hours he lived. Held him til he died."

Jareth looked up at the sad angel, his expression still blank. "I loved my wife the way you loved your Jack. I loved little Jareth. They were here one moment, gone the next. I could blame no one, except God. I blamed Him, yes I did. I became cruel for a very long time. I took children and made my Labyrinth much harder. The runners all lost after that.

"In my time taking wished away children, I noticed many human adults did not love their offspring. Some even injured them. It was then I created the Dark Labyrinth, wanting to take my anger and horror at losing my family out on someone. Who better than evil adults who harm their children? I let it be known in dreams and on the whispering wind that if an adult was hurting a child; really hurting them, that they could wish that adult away. Thus began my rule of both the Light and Dark Labyrinth. I created creatures born of my pain and turned them into the monsters who kill evil adults.

"No one beat either of my Labyrinths, until you came along. As soon as I held Toby and looked into his eyes, I softened. So much like my son. I...just couldn't be angry anymore."

Sarah swallowed, her mouth and throat dry. She felt her eyes prickling with tears, felt her heart aching. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"We have both lost our families," Jareth said, smiling a bit at her. "Quite a horrible thing, isn't it?"

Sarah nodded mutely, staring passed him to the sad angel. They remained in silence for a good while, sitting comfortably in each others presence.

"A visitor approaches," Jareth said, his voice hard with sudden sarcasm. The grief had melted from him, leaving a look of disinterest. "Your police friend, I believe."

Detective McDonald approached slowly, his hands in his coat pockets. Jareth remained, sitting beside the angel, looking up at McDonald with some slight curiosity. Sarah's nerves shook, though she was careful not to show it. What would Jareth do? What would he say? How to explain his presence? Should she even try? Why was McDonald here? What did he want now? Her mind raced, her heart thumped uncomfortably against her ribs, and she had no strength to stand.

"Miss Williams," he greeted, glancing at Jareth briefly, before looking up into the angels face. "Hello Toby," he said softly, clearing his throat.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" she asked, looking up at him steadily.

He smiled a bit sheepishly, then kneeled down beside her. "I came to see Toby, actually. I drop by once a week to give my report to him and Jack."

Her throat closed. She bit her lip, and could think of nothing significant enough to say.

"Thank you," Jareth said for her, catching McDonald's attention again. "I'm Jareth King, Miss Williams' psychologist," he said easily. "I have heard a good deal about you, Mr. McDonald. Sarah appreciates the work you have put into finding her brother and fiance's killers."

"I didn't know you were seeking professional help, that's good," McDonald said after a greeting to Jareth. He smiled a bit at Sarah, looking curiously at her. She was suddenly worried the powder wasn't quite enough to hide that bruise. "It helps, having someone to talk to."

"Yes," she said at last. "And yes, thank you. Jareth – Mr. King is right. I do appreciate your work. I know you will do whatever you can to find the men who did this."

McDonald smiled his easy, somewhat sad smile. "We'll catch up with them, Miss Williams. I suppose you two being here is part of your counseling?"

"Indeed," Jareth cut in. "We were just having a little chat with Toby. Sarah was telling him how her life has been going, that she is coping."

"Do you feel like its helping?" McDonald asked, looking from Jareth to Sarah.

"Yeah," she replied softly. "Talking to Jack and Toby helps."

"Good. I agree." He patted her shoulder as he rose, smiling at them both. "I'll be off. I'll come back and talk to Toby a bit later on. Good to meet you, Doctor."

"You as well," Jareth replied with a nod, smiling.

They watched McDonald walk away, his coat swaying in the slight breeze, his hair ruffling. He got in his car and drove away, throwing them a short wave as he left. Sarah waved back mechanically, then looked at Jareth. "My psychologist?"

"Could be handy later," Jareth said, smiling at her. He rose to his feet, brushed dead grass from his bum, and offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her up.

"You said you had brown eyes," she said, looking into his two different eyes, "why is one blue now?"

Jareth smiled somewhat bitterly. "That's a story for another time, pet. You should get home. Linda will be waking anytime now.

* * *

><p>Linda was up and eating the breakfast Sarah had left for her when Sarah walked in the door. She smiled, patted the kitchen chair beside her. "Enjoy your walk, sweetheart?"<p>

"Yeah," Sarah smiled. "I met Detective McDonald while I was out. He's the one working on finding Jack and Toby's killers. He was visiting them."

Linda swallowed her eggs a bit hard, nodding before taking a big gulp of orange juice. "I met him the other day, when you were at the store. He dropped in to see how you were doing. Seems very nice."

Sarah's blood chilled a bit. She was sure that McDonald was checking up her now. Perhaps that feeling of being watched at Jack's grave had been him. If so, had he perhaps heard her and Jareth speaking before Jareth noticed him? Surely not. Yet the knowing looks he gave her, the way he seemed to scrutinize everything she said and did...it made her so damn edgy.

_What does he know and what doesn't he know?_

She would have to find out, one way or another.


	13. The Final Killing

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Chapter Thirteen: The Final Killing

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

It was finally time for her Dad and Karen to come home. Sarah and Linda made sure the whole house was nice and in order, that when her parents returned, there would be nothing to do but relax. Linda even suggested they bake a cake (Sarah did the actual baking; Linda helped with passing her ingredients and picking icing colors) and make them a nice lunch. Sarah would cook up some homemade chili (Robert's favorite) and rolls a little closer to noon, but for now, she was enjoying time with her Mom.

They played some card games, gossiped about Linda's latest romance ("A real Russian dancer! He moves so beautifully! Dense as a brick, though."), and relived bits of Sarah's childhood.

It was almost time for her parents to arrive when the doorbell rang. Sarah was just setting the chili on the stove top, so Linda went to answer it. She returned moments later, looking a bit pale and pensive, Detective McDonald hot on her heels. He was smiling easily, taking a deep breath. "Homemade chili, wow. I bet it'll be delicious."

"Hello again, Detective," Sarah said simply, smiling warmly at him. She refused to show him how he unsettled her. "Twice in one day?"

He smiled his sheepish smile and shrugged. "I do have a few things I need to discuss with you, Miss Williams. I had some details I needed to clear up before I came by to see you."

"And are they cleared up now?" she asked easily, turning back to stir her chili.

"Still pretty foggy," he admitted, hopping up onto one of the kitchen's bar stools. He leaned his chin in his hand, giving her that innocent look of his. "Maybe you can help me."

"I can try," she replied, turning to face him again. He was reaching into his coat pocket, and finally withdrew a piece of paper. He lay it down on the bar, face down, and slid it towards her.

From looking a the little coded numbers on the back, Sarah was fairly sure it was a photograph. She reached for it with steady fingers, turning it over.

It was a very grainy photo of a dance floor inside of a club. It was at a high angle; a security photo no doubt. People were blurs all around, trying to move away from the center of the photograph, where a man lay nearly chopped in half. Standing over him, her face to the camera, blurred beyond reasonable recognition was Sarah. She knew it was herself, though anyone looking at the photo would never know that. Beside her was a short man; a dwarf. His long beard was dragging the ground, an ax in his hand at his side.

"Detective!" Linda screeched, grabbing the photo up and thrusting it at him. "How dare you show a...a murder photo to my daughter! Hasn't she seen enough death already?"

Sarah met his eyes. He was giving her this knowing look. She remained cool, suddenly not afraid, not nervous.

_Just play along, pet,_ she heard Jareth in the back of her mind.

"Is that real?" she asked innocently. "The dwarf looks like something from a fantasy novel, what I can see of him."

"He's wearing a costume for some reason, we suppose, but it is real," McDonald said. "Taken in New York City, at approximately midnight on the 3rd. Do you know anything about this, Sarah?"

"What could Sarah know about this?" Linda asked angrily, practically shoving Sarah out of the way to address McDonald directly.

"The girl in the photo looks a great deal like your daughter, Miss Kline," McDonald replied, showing it to her again.

Linda looked smug then. "She was here, with me. I had just arrived from Russia that day. I can assure you Sarah was nowhere near New York."

"You stayed awake with her the whole night, Miss Kline?"

"Well, no," Linda admitted, jutting her chin out. "But New York isn't just around the block, Detective. I can assure you she was here."

"I was here," Sarah said, catching his eye again. "New York City is more than five hours from here. I was with Mom til she went to bed at eleven thirty. There is no way I could have gotten to New York City in a half-hour."

"No, I suppose not," McDonald replied. "I just find it odd that one of the suspects in your fiance and brother's murder case was in turn murdered by a girl who looked very much like you." Her face must have twitched, because he smiled again. He fished another photo from his pocket; one of Travis and his friends, taken recently; perhaps during the very vacation Toby and Jack were killed. "Yes, he was a suspect. Him and his three friends, all of which have gone missing, you see. We have an eyewitness that put him and his friends in the area about the time of the murder. One of the missing men had a...sickness when it came to young boys. He also happens to live right between this house and the crime scene. He also owns a SUV that matches the tire prints left at the scene exactly."

Sarah's mouth went dry. She was having a slightly harder time acting innocent. She had no idea the police knew of Travis and the others. "They've disappeared, you say?"

"Yes. The suspect who lives near here was last seen at his home, watching television while his girlfriend did dishes. She returned to the living room to find him gone; she assumed he stormed off after they had a small argument. He was off the following day and didn't report in today. The other two missing men are from out of state, though all four grew up here. Miss Williams," McDonald said quietly, leaning closer to her, holding the photo of the murderers towards her, "do you know of anything to do with these men?"

_Careful pet, you can do this._

"I'm afraid I don't know," she replied, looking at the photo again. "Perhaps they killed someone else's family too. Perhaps that girl is just a victim, like me and mine."

"Sarah!" Linda snapped, grabbing her arms. "Not another word." She looked at McDonald, her eyes blazing. "My daughter knows nothing of these men. If you don't need anything else, I would like for you to leave. My ex-husband and his wife will be here soon and we have much to do before they get here."

McDonald nodded, smiled. "Of course. But Sarah, do call me if you think of anything." He left his card on the counter, sliding it towards her. "I do hope I haven't upset you too badly."

"Not at all," Sarah replied quietly, returning his smile. "You're just doing your job, Detective."

"Of course." He gave her a quick smile, then her mother, before he headed to the door.

As he reached for it, the knob turned and it swung inward, almost hitting him in the face. "Oh! Detective, I am sorry!" Karen's breathless voice said. "You gave me quite a fright!"

"That's all right, Miss Williams. I was just touching base with Sarah here," he said. "Oh, let me help with those bags."

"Thank you," Karen said with a smile. She looked refreshed, as though time away from the house and the memories had helped her. "Sarah!" she called, sailing passed the Detective to give Sarah a hug. Karen smelt like roses and peaches, so warm and nice. Sarah smiled despite herself, giving her step mother a big hug in return.

Her father stepped in, carrying a couple of suitcases. In contrast to Karen, time away seemed to have aged him further. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his eyes wild and tired looking. He dropped the cases by the steps. "Hello, Linda," he greeted, his voice gruff.

"Robert," she replied somewhat stiffly, though her expression softened seconds later. "I am so sorry," she said, looking as though she wanted to go to him but unsure if she should. "Karen, I can't imagine," she said, turning to look at her.

Karen released Sarah and went to Linda, putting her arms around her. The two women hugged for awhile, Karen's shoulders shaking with emotion. Tears prickled Linda's eyes. Sarah watched them with a sigh.

A terrible smell hit her with the breath. It smelt like years old moldy socks and clothes, tinged with soured eggs and stale water. Sarah gagged, almost retching on the floor. It smelt like Travis, only worse.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" her Dad asked, taking a step closer. The smell intensified, growing worse as he neared.

"Stay away!" she yelled, throwing her arm out towards him. The smell was familiar, horribly so.

The faint stink in the study, the slightly stronger smell in Toby's room. A smell so similar to Travis. "Bad smells," Boogey had called it. Sarah looked up, meeting her father's bewildered eyes.

"What...have you done?" she asked breathlessly, staring at him in total horror.

"Sarah, baby, what are you talking about?" he asked, looking totally confused and just under that confusion, fear.

"What...what did you do? Dad, WHAT DID YOU DO?" she shrieked, standing upright, the smell still overpowering but somehow easier to stand in the wake of this feeling of revulsion. "What did you do..._to Toby?"_

Her father took a startled step back, his eyes wild and huge, his skin instantly drenched in sweat. "I-I-"

"In his bed? _HIS BED?"_ Sarah snarled, feeling her fangs prickling in her gums. "DAD?"

"Robert, what is she talking about?" Karen asked breathlessly. "Sarah? What are you talking about?"

"I KNOW YOU DID SOMETHING!" Sarah screamed, launching herself at him. Detective McDonald was there suddenly, his arms around her, holding her back.

"Sarah!" he grunted, trying to hold her. She could feel the strength growing in her, feel her skin changing, her eyes widening, his fangs slowly growing in her mouth.

"FATHER!" she snarled, her fangs bared.

He began to laugh, a high, hysterical sound. "How...how do you...know this?"

"Robert?" Karen shrieked, her hands on her face, her head shaking in denial. "What is all this?" Linda put her arms around Karen's shoulders, holding her as she trembled.

"I tried," Robert began, his voice still high with hysteria. "I tried to not touch him. He was just...beautiful. I never touched you, Sarah," he said with some twisted pride. "I held back. I held myself in check. But Toby...Toby was..._special."_

All the anger bled from Sarah. It turned cold and hard, and she stopped struggling. McDonald's hold on her loosened, and in that second, she threw him off her, sending him flying into the nearby wall. He slid down it, awake, but dazed, clutching his head feebly with his left hand.

"Sarah!" Linda called, but she barely heard it.

Her body began to change. The fat burned away, leaving her sinewy muscles. Her skin greyed, her hair frizzed. Her fangs bore fully, her eyes turned blood red. "Boogey," she called, feeling the air charging around her. "Eldore. Arach."

The lights in the hall began to flicker and darkened. The shadows in the corners deepened, and from them came movement. Karen screamed, looking from her husband to the shadows back to her husband. Her face was a mask of denial and horror. Linda was clutching her tightly, pale and frightened, not knowing what to do or feel. Boogey came first, bleeding out of the shadows, his long, pale limbs scurrying across the floor. Eldore merged from the corner beside the living room, his jewel bright eyes glistening with glee. Arach came slithering from the kitchen, passed Sarah's mother and stepmother, both of who screamed and jumped. They came to Sarah's side, facing her father.

Robert was laughing madly, looking at all four of them, his eyes terrified. He kept laughing and laughing.

Sarah took a deep breath, smelt the sin on her father, and said; "Fetch."

Her three friends lunged as one, Boogey's talloned hands grasping Robert's left arm, Arach's fangs digging into his right, Eldore slamming into his middle. He kept laughing, even as they disappeared into a hail of fire and brimstone.

Sarah stood, the final monster, breathing deeply as the stink faded and drifted away. Karen was sobbing uncontrollably, Linda unnaturally silent. Detective McDonald had managed to get to his feet, his gun drawn and pointed at her.

"Sarah Williams, you are under arrest for the...whatever the hell that just was!" he was yelling, his voice on the brink of panic. "You have the right to remain silent!"

"Enough!" Jareth's voice echoed throughout the house, the mirrors, windows, and all the glass in the house trembling under the sound of it. He appeared in front of Sarah, fairy dust and glitter showering down around her. Karen yelped in terror, Linda moaned. McDonald fired off a shot in instinct, though the bullet fell from his gun like a brick.

Jareth was looking at her and only her, his expression grieved and severe. "Sarah, its time to go."

She met his eyes, feel her tight skin crawl with magic. "I know," she replied, taking his outstretched hand.

"Sarah! What's happening?" Linda yelled, letting go of Karen to come closer to her daughter. "Who are you?" she asked Jareth.

"I have to take her, for her sake," he said to Linda. "She cannot remain here."

"She's not going anywhere but jail!" McDonald snapped, holding his useless gun like a talisman in front of him.

"For what? Magicking away her child molesting father?" Jareth scoffed, waving a hand towards McDonald. The gun flew out of his hands, turned into a feather, and floated easily to the ground. "No one will believe this happened."

"Where are you going?" Linda asked, her voice frightened.

"Underground," Sarah replied, looking at the shell shocked Karen. "I'm sorry."

Karen blinked, looked into Sarah's eyes. She hesitated, then threw herself onto Sarah's neck, hugging her close. "Don't go. Please don't. You're all that's left."

Sarah paused, then lifted her arms and hugged her stepmother. "I...don't think I can stay. I don't think...I can be normal anymore. I'm sorry."

Linda came and took Karen's arms from Sarah's neck. "You aren't alone. It'll be okay," she said soothingly to Karen, then looked at Sarah. "Please...if you can...please come home."

Sarah nodded, took Jareth's hand again, and looked at McDonald. "I killed them all, Detective. I found them and killed them all. You won't find them."

McDonald looked at her, panic in his face, not knowing what to do but that something must be done.

"Goodbye," Sarah said, and they disappeared in a mix of fairy dust and brim stone.


	14. Epilogue Part 1: Sarah's Fate

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Epilogue Part One: Sarah's Fate

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

Sarah was not surprised to see the Dark Labyrinth. They appeared once again in the center of it, though this time, they were not alone. A willowy woman, with dark blond hair, the bluest eyes Sarah had ever seen, wearing a long blue dress, stood beside the fountain. She was so bright, seeming to glow, she looked totally out of place in the dankness of the Dark Labyrinth.

"Jareth," she greeted, her voice resounding and echoing in the gloom.

"Ceana," he replied softly.

"The May Queen requires that you and Sarah Williams appear before her post haste. I will summon you when she is ready."

Jareth gave her a courteous nod and the beautiful woman disappeared in a shower of butterflies.

"The May Queen?" Sarah asked, feeling her body shifting and turning once more into her normal self. She sighed in relief, for she had been sure she would never be herself again after that. Somewhere, far in the deep of the Labyrinth, someone was screaming. Sarah startled, looking out in the direction of it. "Is that...?"

"Yes," Jareth replied, taking her hand and squeezing it. "It's best not to think of it."

Sarah nodded absently, looking out towards the sound as it came again; a long, keening cry. Her father was suffering. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.

He tugged her fingers, taking her towards the exit of the center of the Labyrinth. "We will go to the Twilight Castle," he said softly, navigating the twists and turns with ease. They reached it in a matter of seconds, pausing as the rusted gate lifted to allow them entrance.

Inside, a minotaur stood guard, his bulls face staring curiously at her as they passed. He saluted Jareth, who nodded his reply. They passed a cyclops who was lifting some stones up to a bat looking creature that seemed to be repairing the rampart above. There were creatures that looked like ghouls with chains hanging about their necks, zombie like men who were shuffling about here and there, giant spiders the size of Labradors, and great black horses that were drinking blood from troughs. They entered the castle, where surprisingly enough, Goblins from the Light Labyrinth were running about. The inside of the Twilight Castle looked almost identical to that of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

"This is the Castle Beyond the Goblin City," Jareth said, almost as though he had read her thoughts. "They are one and the same, the outside only being different. This way I can be in both realms at once."

Sarah blinked, looking around herself in confusion. "So this place exists in both Labyrinths?"

"Yes. It is the connector between them. Look out this window here," he motioned her to a window overlooking the Dark Labyrinth, where she could see creatures climbing and crawling over the walls. "Now come here, across the room." They went to the window opposite it, where she could see the light of the fading sky, the vines creeping over the brown stone walls, the fetus looking toppers to the guards spears popping up here and there amongst the turns.

Sarah didn't totally understand, but she supposed it didn't matter. She could still hear the tittering hysteria in her father's laugh, then his anguished cries inside the Dark Labyrinth. "How could he?" she asked no one in particular.

"He almost wished your father away once," Jareth said, his voice soft. "I heard him. He began the wish, then stopped. I never knew why. I knew your father was doing something...unspeakable for me to hear even a fraction of that wish but I never suspected..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked without any anger. She was too confused, too hurt to be angry.

"I couldn't. Laws of the Labyrinth forbid me to speak of things such as this. I cannot tell you of another's wish; not even one that isn't finished." He sighed, running hand through his wild hair. "I cannot interfere with your world. Only when I am wished into it may I act."

She nodded absently, half knowing this already. "Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I know?"

Jareth remained silent, holding her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers, and he squeezed hers back.

"Can I ever return?"

He didn't answer right away. "I don't think so Sarah."

She nodded again, leaning against his shoulder.

"The May Queen will see you now," Ceana said, appearing in the shower of butterflies beside Sarah. "She is in your throne room, Jareth."

Jareth's jaw tightened. He looked annoyed, angry even, but the look quickly passed. "Come on then Sarah. Let's see what she wants, though I suspect I know already." He tugged her hand and they walked away, leaving Ceana to look over the Light Labyrinth.

Sarah looked up at him quietly for a moment. "Who is the May Queen?"

"Ruler of the Fay," he replied shortly. "She is going to offer you something Sarah. I do not know what, precisely, but I recommend that you make no deal with her. She will trap you, as she has trapped me and many others. In the end, the decision is yours."

They entered the throne room to the sound of trumpets. Sarah blinked, the room so bright she could barely stand it. In the center of the brightness, seated upon Jareth's throne, was a woman even more beautiful than Ceana. The room was devoid of goblins, and was in fact empty besides the beautiful blond woman. She wore a white dress, whose gossamer skirt flowed down across the floor, covering it from wall to wall. Her white-blond hair was free around her shoulders, disappearing into the fabric of her dress. She wore a white gold crown upon her brow. Everything about her was pale, accept her eyes. They were the deepest, darkest blue Sarah had ever seen.

"Come to me, Sarah Williams," she commanded, her voice loud and terrible in its beauty. Sarah found her feet moving without her conscience decision to move. She was at the May Queen's feet within seconds, Jareth a step behind her. "Jareth, my child. You have brought unto us a wonder."

"My Lady," he greeted, bowing at his waist. Sarah wondered if she should bow as well, but really didn't know how. Curtsying seemed a bit silly, so she stood there and waited.

"Sarah Williams, our heart grieves with you over the loss of your loved ones," the May Queen said, sounding sincerely pained. She reached out, smoothed her hand over Sarah's hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Beautiful child, you have suffered enough at the hands of humanity. We wish to give to you a gift, if you will accept us."

"A gift, My Lady?" Jareth asked, rising to his full height again. "As the Lady Sarah's friend, I ask that you share your idea of a...gift."

"Always so cautious, my child," the May Queen said with pride. She smiled, her teeth impossibly white and straight. She looked at Sarah with fondness. "We wish to restore onto your human world, the lives of your brother and beloved."

Sarah's breath caught. She looked up at the beautiful queen, licked her lips. "Can you do that? Your Majesty?" she added.

"We can do many things, child," the Queen replied warmly. "In the world of the Fay, we can restore life to those we see fit. There is, of course, a price."

"What price?" Jareth asked.

"I don't care," Sarah said breathlessly. She looked at the Queen, her hands grasped together at her breast. "Bring them back. I will pay whatever price you ask."

"Sarah!" Jareth hissed, grabbing her elbow. She never looked from the Queen, though, who was smiling a beautiful, nearly sinister smile.

"My child, we will tell you the price, then we shall discuss if the gift will be received. We will restore your loved ones. We will reorder time, so that their deaths will never happen. In their place, you shall die instead, the same horrible way they did." The Queen leaned back, looked smug and still beautiful.

"NO!" Jareth roared, snatching Sarah and pushing her behind him. "I will not permit this!"

"It is up to the child," the Queen said simply.

"I'll do it," Sarah said, her voice steady. She pressed her forehead between Jareth's shoulders, hugging him to her. "I have to. For Toby. For Jack."

"Sarah," Jareth moaned, clutching her hands as the pressed against his stomach.

"You shall not remain dead, of course," the Queen added offhandedly. "After your death, we shall bring your earthly remains here, resurrect you, and you shall be our beloved subject and bare our mark; as Jareth does. In fact, we have a job for you to do."

Sarah stepped out from behind Jareth, looked up at the Queen, and said; "Name it."

The Queen smiled, told Sarah of her destiny and new title, and disappeared into a shower of flower petals.

All in all, not a bad deal, Sarah decided, smiling encouragingly at Jareth. Jareth, however, was inconsolable. He stormed away from Sarah, leaving her in the once again drab throne room to ready herself for her death.


	15. Epilogue Part Two: Say Your Right Words

**Sarah, Bloody Sarah**

Epilogue Part Two: Say Your Right Words

_Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all._

It was the last year of college and Jack Gregg couldn't have been happier. His degree was well within his grasp, his life was pretty well on track (a great job, an even better fiance, a happy family to call on, great college friends to rely on), and he and Sarah had just rented the most amazing house ever. It was small, one bedroom home, with a nice sized kitchen, a small but warm dining room/living room combo, and a great backyard; perfect for him to grill in and Sarah to set up a nice patio set. His family was proud of him, his professors adored him, and Sarah loved him with all her heart.

It was summer; the best time of the year. Sarah was in shorts every day(a sight Jack would never get tired of), always sun bathing or spending time out in the yard. Her little brother Toby was staying with them for the week, sleeping on their couch and playing PlayStation with Jack til it ran hot. He was a great kid, if not a bit too serious most of the time. Jack often wondered if the kid had some secret; sometimes it seemed he wanted to open up and tell Jack, but just never got the nerve. Maybe before the summer was out, his soon-to-be little brother would open up a bit.

They decided a day of fishing and sunbathing at the river was due. Toby wanted a new pair of swim trunks, so Jack offered to drive him into town while Sarah set up their picnic basket and fishing poles. They would meet up in an hour or so at the river, giving Sarah plenty of time to relax and sun bathe til they got there.

Toby was a smart little kid. He found what he wanted immediately, and they took off to the river, playing trivia games as they went. Toby knew more about rockets than Jack ever dreamed of knowing, stumping him with every question.

"I think you're making this stuff up, kiddo," he joked.

Toby laughed, "No way! I'm just smarter than you!"

"Ouch!" Jack laughed. They made it to the river a bit before the hour was up. Sarah's station wagon was there, the back open, the picnic basket and blankets still in it. Jack felt uneasy, looking at the three fishing poles waiting there. Sarah had had plenty of time to set up. "Stay here kiddo."

"Jack?" Toby called out as Jack got out of the truck. He went for his seat belt.

"I said stay here!" Jack snapped. Toby instantly set back, his eyes wide. "Just...stay in the truck. Please." Jack went around to the drivers side, saw Sarah's purse in the passenger seat. The feeling of unease grew, approaching panic. "Sarah!" he called, going around the front of the car. He went around some brush and stopped.

In the nearby brush, just barely sticking out under a tree limb, was a blue sandal; just like the one Sarah had been wearing earlier that day. Jack stumbled towards it, the world moving passed him in slow motion. It was discarded; just laying there on its side. He came up on it, staring at it, then around it. A few feet away, the other shoe lay in a similar state. He went to it, looked behind the nearby old oak tree, and suddenly he was on his knees, screaming with all his might.

The world was drenched in red. The tree was splattered with it, the leaves covered in it. Sarah was there beneath the tree, naked, red with blood, laying on her stomach. Her back destroyed; stabbed and chopped so much he couldn't bare to look at it, her face turned towards him. He looked into her unseeing, beautiful blue eyes and screamed some more. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. He just sat there, screaming.

"Jack?" Toby's frightened voice said behind him. Jack looked over his shoulder, found Toby looked passed him at the corpse of his sister. Jack was on his feet in an instant, snatching the boy up. He was running back to the truck, passed Sarah's abandoned station wagon. He threw Toby into the passenger seat, was starting the engine up, when a man came running down the road. Jack cut the engine, fell out of the truck.

"Hey! Are you okay?" the older man asked, kneeling down beside him.

Jack was crying, clutching the man's shirt. Toby came up beside them, his young face very serious, yet tearless.

"My sister's dead under a tree. Can you call the police, mister?"

A fine, summer day in his twenty-first year of life, Jack Gregg went mad.

* * *

><p>It was late; well passed midnight. The clock on the dashboard was too fuzzy to read, his alcohol soaked brain seeing only red blurs where the numbers should be. In his passenger seat was a half-consumed bottle of whiskey, his floor boards littered with empty bottles and beer cans. Robert Williams was on a binge, his mind swimming with thoughts of his raped and murdered daughter.<p>

He hadn't been a good father. Not even close. He was a bastard, actually; a child molesting piece of shit. No, no, he hadn't molested Sarah. He had been stronger when she was a child. He'd held himself in check and only ever loved her like his daughter, ignoring his darker impulses. It was his second child, born much later in life, that he had succumb to. Toby was his star, his beautiful boy. He had ignored Sarah for her own protection; isolating her from him. He had molested his Toby, turning the boys love to hate.

Yes, Robert was shit. He hated himself. He drank and drank and didn't care what Karen thought of him. He loved Karen, he really did. He was just too nasty for a sweet woman like her.

He was looking for a cliff to go off. He wanted to die, somewhere no one would find his car and corpse. He wanted to suffer; to feel a fraction of the pain his little Sarah suffered.

He wanted to die in a horrible, burning way. He wanted to do one thing right; he wanted to save Toby from himself. He wanted to die and give up and not live with the monster he had become.

He took a curb too fast, his side wheels lifting from the road. He finished the curb, staring blearily ahead, looking for the best place for a scumbag like him to die.

Then, he saw her. Standing in the middle of the road, her long hair loose around her, staring at him with frightening clarity, haloed in headlights, was Sarah.

He swerved to avoid her, his car brushing passed her with only an inch to spare. He slammed into a tree, the hood of his car scrunching together, his headlights breaking free. His forehead his the steering wheel, the seat belt he had unknowingly fastened snapped him back into place.

He sat motionless, moaning and confused. He unbuckled the belt after what seemed forever, stumbling from his car. He climbed up the small drop off back up onto the road, scratching up his hands and knees as he fell a couple of times. She was there, waiting for him, silhouetted against the full moon, her hair drifting in the breeze. "Sarah? Baby?" he asked hopefully. She did not respond, and though he could not see her face, he knew it was her. "Baby, oh baby!" he cried, throwing his arms around her neck, not caring about the pain running through his body. He clutched her close, sobbing into her hair. "Baby you're alive! They didn't let us see you, closed casket...I didn't believe..." he babbled, sobbing happily as he held his little girl.

The pain was instant and bright. He felt a bashing sensation on his back, felt his bones crack and muscle tear. He cried out, sliding down his Sarah. She didn't embrace him, didn't move to help. Her face was revealed to him; a monster's face.

Robert tried to scream, but could not. The ax was hard in his back, his Sarah flanked suddenly by three, frightening monsters. His vision blurred, and the last thing Robert Williams saw was his daughter's satisfied smile.

* * *

><p>He lay under the covers, shaking in fear. He heard the footsteps on the hallway boards, creaking, creaking, coming ever closer.<p>

_Not tonight, please not tonight,_ little Bill Warner thought. He was just eight years old, the son of a drunken mother, forgotten most of the time, hated and despised the rest. His mother's new boyfriend, a guy called Robbie, liked Bill. Not in a fun, "Let me be your Dad" sort of way, but in a "Hey look, a convenient punching bag when I'm mad" sort of way. He beat him with a belt, with a switch, and sometimes with a pool cue from the table down in the basement. It didn't matter if Bill had been good or bad, had been loud or quiet. If Robbie saw Bill, he wanted to beat on him.

Robbie was coming down the hall, coming ever closer, ready to beat on Bill for goodness knows what. Bill just wanted a way out. He remembered when his Mom wasn't a bad person. She had been a sweet, caring Mom before Dad had run off with the secretary at his law firm. She hadn't drank then.

The door was opening. If only there was a way to get rid of Robbie! Maybe he could make his mom be nice again, show her that drinking was bad. Maybe they could be a family again. The door was open now. Bill peaked over the covers, saw Robbie's silhouette against the hall light.

Suddenly he knew the words. It was like the wind from the open window was whispering them in his ear. Quietly, barely above a whisper, Bill said; "I wish the Fetchers would take you away...right now!"

The hallways light flickered. In it, for just one second, Bill was sure he saw a creature standing beside Robbie. It was on all fours, its long, slender arms up and holding onto Robbie's arm. There was no time for Robbie to make a sound, for one flicker later, he was simply...gone.

The light in Bill's room flickered on, spazztically glowing and snapped. It was one of those old rope lights, that you had to pull a chain to bring it on. It swung to and fro, and right beneath it was a woman. She was wearing all black; a black tank top, black jeans, black boots. Her skin was grey, her hair matted and tangled. In one hand was a bloody ax, the other was spinning a set of two crystals. Her eyes were on him; one hazel, the other a deep; rich blue.

"You're her, aren't you?" Bill asked, knowing deep in his soul who she was. He had heard stories; whispered tales from the kids on the school yard. Rumors of a woman who would come if you wished away an evil person; a woman who would send the evil away and give you a chance to be happy again. "You're Bloody Sarah, the Fetcher Queen."

Bloody Sarah, Queen of the Dark Labyrinth, Leader of the Fetchers smiled, her teeth coated red in blood, her mismatched eyes glittering in delight.

**The End**

A/N: This was a labor of love. A long, awesome labor of love. I hope to write a sequel and have good plans for it. ^_^


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